How simple it would be, to tip
over the edge, to suddenly exit the
rational, like Thaima pouring boiling water
onto herself, an act I understood but now more so,
I see the beyond-rational need to break
that barrier, to feel a physical pain
that meets the psychic horror
turning up one dial to meet the other
equalizing at least this —
the intensity of feeling
although it all stays incomprehensible
only nonsensical acts make sense
when all sense has been forsaken
the betrayal of reason
already under way,
surrounding – so that the self-inflicted
pain becomes one comprehensible
point of contact — one place
she can stand and say I feel this
for a reason
the pain is undeniable
I want to tell you, Thaima,
that I understand
that your act makes more sense
than anything else
in that blasted landscape
of your country
I wish that we
could wander through
a mind-scape together,
making sense
crafting meaning from found bits
of our hearts, lying
alongside the road like scraps
these treasures of knowing
like spools of string
that could tie up a harvest of
flowers and herbs,
secure a small bundle of
something essential
as we keep walking away from
the fires of collapsed empire
toward an unperceived realm
that our senses can trust
November 1, 2024
(Thaima is an Iraqi friend from Doha, who told me about the day she stood in front of the stove and poured boiling water onto her stomach. Her name is changed to protect privacy.)