There Are Other Justices
There are other justices
and apophatic prayers.
There are other ways of being
gesturing elsewhere.
There are other languages:
Mycelium make rhyme.
There are many other clocks
that will not be on time.
There are other knowings.
There are other kin.
The trickster meets them
At the crossroads with a wily grin.
There are other worldings
that queer the modern path.
They crackle from the margins
and make the trickster laugh.
There are other sciences
That set the spirit free.
They bless the grief and wail and sing
the language of the trees.
There are other healings
Deep inside your bones,
Marrowed with the rocks and sky,
beckoning you home.
There are other wisdoms that
shine through self-help cracks.
Find the un-cartographies:
There are other maps.
There are other politics—
Economies of moss
There are other activisms
composting the loss.
There are other stories
that live in wild edges
The ancestors go there whispering
The passwords of the hedges
There are new communities
Tender in the weeds
Forging new belongings
And sharing broccoli seeds
And though you seek for refuge
Inside this white-washed dome,
Fugitive, keep breaking out,
The search may lead you home.
This poem was written as a witness to the ongoing decolonial journey and gestures of postactivism, inspired by the teachings and phraseology of Bayo Akomolafe