Primordial Today

Before my name
there was hope.
Before the shame
there was purity.

My soul remembers —
floating, innocent —
above mother’s hurt,
dripping time.

This joy I carry
is primordial.
It did not begin here.
It was carved from space —
before language,
before war,
before thought.

It’s older than pain.
It nudges me when I’m still.
And when I laugh
uncontrollably —
I reach back,
and feel it today.