Ghazal (Space, Christian)
by CHRISTIAN HAYDEN
in Fall 2022
Karim Brown, from On Being a Child, 2022
What fills the void you create?
So many things live, and die in that space
You dance, drift and think that it’s grace
When you slowly glide away, just to give space
You thought she understood, when you left
It was an attempt to let her breathe, have space
Stretch the a and it doesn’t feel so cold
Like its own place, this space
You had to fight for so much, now you fight
A word, or caress, in the name of space
Sometimes you let go, and your hips guide
You into and past a soul, a space, a space
A moment leads you to a new object of reward, fresh face
That beckons a need to immediately take that space
Christian, if you didn’t choke at the fear of grounding embrace,
What would you learn to hear in that space?
Christian Hayden is a photographer, educator and humanist who hesitates to call himself a poet. Born in New York, living in Philadelphia, with his mind continually drifting towards Ghana, Christian is also an aspiring multilinguist. His poetry, like his work, deals with the tragedy and possibility of relation.