For Shanice
A bang pierces my sleep
like rusty metal meets warm flesh.
You wait on my doorstep, covered in blood.
I open without shock or surprise.
A part of me always expects you
and everything that comes with it.
I pull two bloodstained rings from your fingers,
dress your hand in white bandages
and reach into whatever medicine my lineage holds.
My tucked-away third-degree knowledge of wounds
awakens as if it were waiting,
as if it took your blood to remember my own.
Some things are certain long before they are shown,
seeing them only confirms an old truth.
I know that defeat does not live in your veins,
that whatever force can kill you is yet to be created.
In the morning,
we follow the trail of your blood
and watch it dry up in the sunlight.
My crusty eyes hinge onto your silhouette,
spotting red sprinkles on my sweatpants.
You joke about almost dying as usual.
Oh, what a sight to see you alive.
About the Poet
Dshamilja Roshani (they/them) is a Berlin-born poet, writer and performer of German-Iranian descent who is based in Johannesburg. They hold a BA Honours in Creative Writing from Wits University and currently teach young South African poets through the Word N Sound Academy programme.
Selected work- https://linktr.ee/dshamilja
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