Iteration

By Sa'ada Isa

that at the end of loss, loss may begin again
— Samuel Adeyemi

There is something about healing that
loss doesn't agree with.
All my dead ones have found a way
to keep dying. I too am learning
that the wound never really closes.
It only mutates into something small,
beautiful enough to permit the passage of laughter.
But the body always has a way of ruining itself,
mistakes laughter for a sea of bliss
whose tides are swelling with joy.
Laughter too thinks itself a healer,
confounds us for the wound and swallows us whole.
The sweetness of mistakes--see how easily we're flailing.
Look at the old man by the roadside,
there is a congregation of loss in his eyes.
The earth is fat with chunks of his last lover.
I know he is frightened by the weight of dead things
in his mouth. Still, he opens his jaw for a chuckle to be born.
Careful enough to not let his dead spill.
Look at me, I do not want to mistake my laughter for light.
I, too, am frightened by this dirty iteration of trauma.
I gather all the people I love and
begin to mourn them in advance.

BIO:
Sa'ada Isa is a Nigerian teen author and member of HCAF, Abuja. She is a runner up for the maiden edition of the AIPFEST Slam 2024. Sa'ada has some of her work