a transcription of the poem read on the home page of this issue

by Samantha Thornhill

for 8th graders at City School of the Arts

What if I were to tell you that I am you,
that your face is my mirror? What if
we’re all infinite expressions of One Beloved?
That we, my friends, are multidimensional
masterpieces? What if I were you, with your
ancestors ghosting through my veins,
housing your past life pains (instead of mine);
if I had the sweet and sour privilege of ambling
in your dress rehearsals of skins
across the cosmos; if I were the only
you in all the animated universe, then
would I arrive at your exact missteps?
What if my failure to understand you is my folly?
What if it is possible to be broken and still
whole, brilliant fissures of light leaking up and through?
What if vulnerability is our best armour, our iron?
What if pristine planets with pure beings do exist, but
we chose this evolutionary planet of hard rocks?
What if the assignment is to forget ourselves
into remembrance, to love unconditionally
in the muck, to spiral up from our primordial depths?
What if we chose all of this anyhow:
our wonderfully shitty parents, hurdles,
backhands and crash landings?
What if the Most High indwells in the lowly
and far flung, and from the reaches of hell
we can still be each other’s angels? Friends,
friends, if I were to tell you all
of this, would you believe me
or would you nod and say,
I know?

Poem copyright 2022 by Samantha Thornhill. All rights reserved.

See more poems from Samantha Thornhill on The Fight & The Fiddle: “Midases,” “How to Use African Black Soap,”  and “Four Sonnets.”

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Read more in this issue: Interview | Critical Essay | Writing Prompt