Jubilee
Speaking upward, ignoring the throttled roar of time
I let the moon blossom across my tongue, bitter effervescence.
Plainness as virtue, silence as self.
This faith, a recent acquaintance.
The seeds of rage grow stalky and thick as prison bars—
now sedated and hollow, a bamboo forest.
A double portion of shame
transformed. The prophet’s vision,
like the illogical promise of afternoon light.
We rattled by the bright keening of new foliage
against skies leaden with thunder.
You were standing on the roof. The cattle
turned their heads.
I cannot match your purity
But I am adept in the practice of convergence.
The crunch of gravel, the flocked shadows of starlings
Bursting from the budding unleafed trees—
Gravity, flight.
Emily Bender-Nelson is an emerging poet and visual artist from the American South, living in The Hague. Her work explores motherhood, neurodivergence, and belonging, and she is particularly interested in the Mennonite psyche. Her day job is in international migration and human rights. Find her daydreaming on instagram @emilynowhere
Amethyst Review 