and look to the sky

already i must clutch my own heart

and look to the sky

the door to the house is open

behind us

and look to the sky

remembering what is

behind us

a dream i am writing you into

remembering what is

before all of this

a dream i am writing you into

with my eyes

before all of this

you traveled the ocean

with my eyes

and by hand you made family

you traveled the ocean

the door to the house is open

you made family already

by hand

my hands clutch at my heart

(This poem is really for my Nana, Joyce McKenzie who is—always—in the process of telling me her life story, but now I am recording and transcribing it. One of the beautiful things about Nana’s life is that she made it by hand. She created family by choice and care and need as an orphaned child who didn’t have access to safety or home in Jamaica after her grandmother passed away. My Aunt Bunny and my Aunt Jenny, pictured here are two of the many people who became her family through the process of migrating together and keeping each other alive. They became kindred in and across the ocean. My grandmother’s migration story has profoundly shaped my life and our family and I also dedicate this poem to all those who are loving each other across oceans and other borders and for those who have usually been able to traverse borders freely who are now learning what it means to have to do your caring long distance, not by choice, but by necessity. And what will be the evidence one day in the future of the families we are creating and nurturing now. Of the ways we kept each other alive.)