The original heart

To feel the pain of your ancestors,

is to return to the second time we all touched.

Not the first time,

when we all actually touched,

touched like a shiver, hand upon your back,

touched like, “touch me”

touched like, “can I see your hand?”

touched like, “I’m hurting.”

It was that intimate at the Big Bang,

and it still is now.

That was the first time.

The second time is a reminder,

that what’s done is done.

Love it or hate it,

we all came from one Black womb.

Her heart was broken too.

Maybe you inherited yours from her.

Your mother’s eyebrows,

your father’s legs,

that original heart.