At the Gurdwara

i walk through the door of a teacher emanating light
shoes off, head covered with my shawl
i avoid my face his face in the mirror as i wash my hands

naked feet enter the darbar, the guru’s court
and i touch my forehead to the earth below their throne

at the back, i cross my legs among breastfeeding mothers
and keertan-singing grandmothers
my own family sitting far ahead

here, i close my eyes to the royal blue carpet
and the guru’s golden palki
letting pain drip behind the shield of my shawl

truth be told, i don’t always know what i believe
but i open my palms to any peace my mother finds
in the divine
wondering if i’m worthy of this love, too

in this cold betrayal of a body
i ache for an anchor
i pray for another life
i beg for the nightmare of my dna to end.