IF MY BODY IS DYING, TELL ME YOU LOVE ME

Poem by: Jacqueline Jiang
Translated by: Fadil Bajraj

Tell me that the veins under my skin
are safe inside your coffin.
Mahogany and black walnut are my favorite trees,
but you can bury me under a flamboyant.
I will still burn inside, impossible to extinguish.

Tell me you'll share my stories.
with the little ones who are looking for flowers,
and who run to give them to their mothers and grandmothers;
those who hold the ancestral pass.

They still remember me.
My name will come out of their tongues
hall to crawl into the mouths of those who cannot
to pronounce the names engraved on my cross.

Tell me that being here, with you, meant something,
When you said you loved me, you really did.
In another life, you wouldn't even pluck the hairs from my arms.
Instead, you took the soil and held my eyelashes to water it.
The moon nourished me, we made love and
I blessed you before we established our home.

If my body is dying, tell me you love me.
Tell me that those I have inside me are safe, their bellies are full,
Cement walls are durable enough to cover them.

Don't tell me about the excavators and bulldozers waiting,
like a vulture, to destroy me.
Don't even tell me about the contracts you made,
how people are waiting to build their houses on my bones.
Tell me about the love you had for my body,
How you promised to support me.

I can't imagine a world where I'm not here, with you.
What will I look like after you fail?
Fight with me here, my love, while I am still alive.