NO CERTIFICATE CAN EXPLAIN ME
I arrived on a Monday, from one canal
to a cold, smooth grey world, light
bending to a particulate blue.
In time, I became a wound,
too many colours for one woman.
Painted into a corner,
not passing through anything without your approval,
all chromatic wheels at my disposal
spin off their axis in all the wrong shades.
You refused to answer questions or articulate secrets,
my birth almost virginal
photographic evidence erased,
paternal ancestral tree axed,
scorched earth policy in effect.
Who was the enemy?
Please, let the unsaid speak to me.
Not sure I’m an official document of a bright anyone.
My birth certificate of hidden identities
stamped non-negotiable, passport confiscated,
I passed through you and should have kept going,
pushing through grey corners, splitting blue walls,
diving into green.
Lynn Tait is an award-winning poet/photographer residing in Sarnia, Ontario. Her poems have appeared in Vallum, Contemporary Verse 2, Windsor Review, FreeFall, Literary Review of Canada and in over 100 North American anthologies. Her photo art has graced the covers of 7 poetry books. She is a member of The Ontario Poetry Society and the League of Canadian Poets.