I wish I could declare a state of safety in my heart
A way to distinguish between comfort,
How to tell the difference between who I think I am
And a stranger.
What is a stranger anyway
Except for the unknown made flesh?
Our collective labor pains
sometimes give birth to bombers.
I wish I knew the right wires to disconnect
within my feverish intellect.
The red one, the blue one?
The white one, the black one?
The turban, the hoodie the hajab?
But I’m already disconnected
Already too much at a distance.
Already wired for fear
That conveniently rejects
The truth I refuse to go near.
What safety can any official truly declare
That will keep me safe
From the terrorist within?