It is no accident —
Your cheeks are shaped to
fill cupped hands,
that your laugh is as resonant
as the box drum,
if your legs take the shape that
the tundra gave them, or if
years of challenge mean you
love too hard.
If your People’s language still echoes
even when you speak another or
that your skin holds the memory of
every Elder’s hug.
It is no mistake that you are both loud and quiet
because the land is loud and quiet.
You are as accidental as the aġviq
having baleen to catch its food.