the sun had much to say,
and I responded with
rival voice of my own:
I will not comply.
like a river I meander
at times, but the
destination holds—
the earth opens
to gather me
where we embrace.
my chest swells tight
with the burden of performance:
that the composition of my
self be diluted—
but I will not comply.
they scatter ice like ashes,
smoldering—
blanket acquiescence
for the disappeared.
we resist.