One child has brown eyes, one has blue One slanted, another rounded One so nearsighted he squints internal One had her extra epicanthic folds removed One downcast, one couldn't be bothered One roams the heavens for a perfect answer One transfixed like a dead doe, a convex mirror One shines double-edged like a poisoned dagger Understand their vision, understand their blindness Understand their vacuity, understand their mirth
The Great Matriarch says: There is a dog who barks at his own shadow, which is not there, for in mid-day sun, there is no shadow.
Notice, if I give him a dumpling or a chew-toy, he stops barking, but he does not stop when he sees his shadowless shadow. He barks with warning, with alarm.
He barks louder and louder, snapping his jaws, swallowing sputum, on his haunches, ready to pounce.
He is afraid of what is not there. Like you, Mei Ling, when you wake up, gasping for breath, thinking you might die, that ICE agents will come with a choke-chain.
Poor dear, he wants to protect us from the unseen, the unexpected, the unknowable. This is very bad luck in the neighborhood, to constantly hear the harbinger of doom.
Should we, then, euthanize him, put him out of his misery? To prophesy destruction is to invite bad omens, to stare into the abyss.
Or should we calm him, caress him, give him shelter?
Let’s call him by his birth name and take away his power. Let’s shout, “Hashtag, No Collusion, Gunboat, Death Star, Apocalypse, Mara, Cerberus, Beelzebub!”
Let’s call him, “The one who understands vacuity.”
Let’s not fear him, but love him, offer the pink leash, for he is your dog and he is mine.