Reach

A baby girl was born on an airplane
as her parents fled Afghanistan
while in their jet stream wake
the Taliban took power
overnight.

A tiny quaking bright hope of all feminine power

Both passed and living now.
Ten fingers, ten toes.

They named the baby Reach after the airplane,
as if she was reaching across the sea
for her life
as the world below heard
her first cries.

I was heavy with the weight of this miracle
and I cried thinking of this twinkling star of new breath,
arching like a sunrise
over the dark and vast ocean waters
and over her sisters, mothers, grandmothers left behind. 

These brave ancestors
are throwing the torch.
as a newborn baby soars
over Flander’s Fields.*
We hold it high.
We shall not break faith
with those who lie
In Afghan fields, in American homes, in courtrooms, in clinics, on sidewalks, in grocery stores, in parks, on subways, in schools.  
WE ARE SIBLINGS.

WE ARE SURVIVORS.

❤️❣️❤️❣️❤️🌹🥀🌺🏵️

*Referencing the poem “In Flanders Fields by John McCrae