midwinter
rooms filled with plaster saints;
children's laughter and smiles fill the air.
i can't help but watch in envy
as i hear everyone's tales.
am i just the black sheep of the family?
i wonder when everyone got so tired of me -
i used to be given love, paid attention to and known
when did that end?
i wonder if it's my fault,
should i be trying harder?
would i be loved if i was doing more?
maybe it's for the best if i'm left alone
i always needed to be humbled one way or another.
all the birds singing have ceased for some time,
only the snow falls to whisper to us now.
mothers hold onto the children - caring, the bonding so precious.
when did that end?
was it my fault?
it must've been.
her voice still stings in my ears,
it wasn't always me, but i feel as if now
it started to be.
did their prayers start being for me?
it feels like they only want me to fall;
my knees to be skinned as i try to chase after them,
but i can't. i was always too weak, too slow for the rest of them.
Everyone speaks of joy,
and i can't help but wonder if it's me.
can i not feel such an emotion?
maybe i just can't bring myself to feel such joy
even when i want to feel it, so badly i want, but it feels so out of reach.
when i finally grasp it, it feels just so jarring - do i deserve it?
it's so hard to hold onto; why did no one tell me?
i want to keep holding on, but i don't know how.
maybe i should just accept that it won't feel as good as they say;
goodbye, my family -
maybe next time i'll finally feel what you call happiness.
maybe next midwinter, it won't feel so cold.
Ellana Ky '28* is a poet and artist. She loves writing in her free time - and Scarlett Johansson.