Poetry

I knew I was different.

Mimicking the other kids,

my efforts were no avail.

I couldn't ever achieve their dispositions,

couldn't ever accept my losses without bursting into tears,

without acting my frustrations.

It was because of my mother.

They could never love me.

Winter weather’s here.

Snowstorms, ice, and cocoa too.

Don’t fret, summer’s near.

Out of my reach,

Handsome, tall and kind.

Out of my reach,

Always on mind.

Some things just won’t work out,

It’s not meant to be.

But I’ll always have doubt,

What if he’s the one for me?

Hidden away is the Greek island of Delos

Spread with ancient ruins is the island of Delos

Shrouded in ancient history is the island of Delos

Stated birthplace of gods is the island of Delos

Populated with violent winds is the island of Delos

Sacred is windy Delos

Eerie Shining moonlight

What is it that you seek

Your bright drifting gaze constantly searches

What is it that you desire

The glow of your light looks consistently

What keeps your persistence kept

Millennia have you covered these lands

What is there hidden in the darkness

The moon echoes the passage of time,

reflecting off eyes which in the night climb.

She shifts her gleaming face to fool the sky,

sometimes bold and revealing; other times shy.

An ever changing portrait, the night sky her frame, 

the moon transforms, and yet remains the same.

Her faces shift like the fleeting desert sands,

both pruned and formed by unseen hands.

Uncannily beheld in the dark of night,

only time will tell the form of her sight.

Waxing Crescent

perfect land:

untouched, unscathed.

pure, simple hope—

a world of opportunity

a glowing, shining realm.

as it waits, 

waits for hands to mold its fate,

halcyon days pass.

its rivers hum silent songs,

its skies hold undreamt dreams,

mountains rise unscarred,

fields grow unsown.

still becoming.

Full Moon

utopic world:

light reaches all corners,

but where there is light

there are shadows,

whispering secrets

not even the light can hide.

utopic, dystopic—

good, bad

happy, sad

two sides of a coin.

sucked into conformity,

the radiant glow blinding,

freedom controlled.

the world is a stage,

us under watchful eyes.

not yet free.

Waning Gibbous

deteriorating home:

once thriving,

now decaying.

cities torn to the ground,

chaos, danger in every corner

that keeps getting darker.

i hold you,

as the light fades,

encapsulating us in a hell.

hope is lost,

faith has fled.

tears overflow the rivers,

screams split the skies,

anger crumbles mountains,

fury burns fields.

i’m right here.

New Moon

vacant terrain:

nothing.

echoes and whispers

dance around, flitting and flickering,

but nothing the eye can hold.

then,

there you are,

your own reflection

mirrored on an empty sky.

you, 

you are no observer

you are no bystander.

you are woven into this scheme, this story,

irrevocably tied.

it is inevitable

unless you change it.

you are the answer.

I have to say that I’ll miss you in a poem

It is far too much to verbalize it

My throat closes

My vision blurs with tears

My brain spirals

Even writing this, my face is dripping wet

I can’t think about how we’ll never be kids again

No more games on the playset

No more Just Dance battles

No more arguing over the bathroom

That chapter has ended

We’re grown

You have to go.

I have to stay,

Watch your room get dusty,

Eye your empty chair at the island,

Wait with Ruby, anxious for your return.

Every picture I have of home in my head has been filled with your color

Vibrant and strong

But now the paintings are shifting

Almost unrecognizable.

Because you’re gone.

And I can’t even be mad about it

Because I know you’re gonna do great things

And I know that this will be the best experience of your life

And I'm so proud of you.

But that doesn’t stop my mourning

My longing

To go back to watching Trollhunters and Ninjago

When college seemed like universes away

And we were young

And together

I miss that.

I miss you.

I love you.

I know you’re not gone forever

And you haven't abandoned me

But this just feels too much

I feel too alone

No more sisters here

Half my heart is missing,

Trailing after you both.

How can I survive?

My world is flipped upside down and hollowed out

And I have to pretend it is normal

That it's okay

When all my heart is aching for a late-night boba run

Or a sibling sleepover

Or just a hug from you

To confirm you’re real

You’re safe

You’re with me.

I want to tell you this in person

But I get too sloppy

My words don’t do my emotions justice

I cry too much.

I have to stick with what I know,

Poems and songs

Don McLean articulates everything that's happening so well

“Empty rooms that echo as I climb the stairs

 And empty clothes that drape and fall on empty chairs

 And I wonder if you know

 That I never understood 

That although you said you'd go 

Until you did I never thought you would”

(Empty Chairs)

And I don’t want to make you feel bad for going

Because I want this for you

And I know it will get easier

It just doesn’t feel that way right now.

Because I look into your eyes and see little you

Artsy, smart, fiery, innocent

But then I look at the rest of your face

Matured, beautiful, passionate

And I wonder when you grew up

When we grew up.

But I know little you is still within you

And I know it's going to be okay.

Because we’re sisters

And nothing can change that

Not even your stupid college.

So this is my sendoff

A measly goodbye (for now)

Written by a timid little girl

Too scared of crying

Who has to say ‘I’ll miss you’ in a poem

Life is a moment between an inevitable beginning and a promised end

Yet in every life there is love, and its absence

One will eventually sees that life is what they make it, that life is nothing more than a canvas, calling to its painter

Yet my canvas was already made for me

It was nearly finished when I finally sat down info=ront of my easel

The paint was already packed away, and the brushes were set down near the sink waiting for another painter, an artist who wasn’t me

I remember trying to remove that picture that wasn’t who I was

Washing the canvas, yet each time it painted a picture that was only farther away from what I was

Who I wanted to be 

The pain I felt, was never displayed, the tears I shed years passed went undocumented

And the growth, the heartache–erased

I was perfect, absolutely perfect

I disposed of that painting, I let go

I picked up a new canvas, I began

I drew who I was, I was content–proud of who was finally there

I loved myself, because those put in place to love me, were too immature to realize that love and control are not the same, and never would be

That trauma, and guidance are opposites 

That love and loss, were bound to be my life

That I would care for every being I met as if I had love left to give

That I would drain my heart for a person, only to forget that there was an absence

Not from myself, but from those I depended on to love me

My tapestry was nothing more than jet black, with a gold star in the center

My painting was no more than a puzzle, and the little love, the one piece I had remaining

My heart is my canvas

Years have passed, and the tears I cried for him, for them have finally dried

I now wait for my end to consume me

The same way that at the end of a performance, the stage curtains consume the symphony 

For them to never be mentioned again, nor seen except by the people who love them, the people who know them

I am that symphony, and yet I will never be seen again 

For I loved, because I lost, only to unravel because of my own incriminating devotion

I am the star that floats in space, enduring to shine, yet slowly being forgotten

In every life there is love, and its absence

I was aware of love’s absence and ignorant to its attempts to become present

That is how I continue to live, aware of the consequence, yet afraid of those I might lose in the unknown 

I live like this, as a symphony awaiting the freedom that comes after the grand finale

A snapshot I carry on the inside of a wallet, I have yet to confess that I have

A gentle sunbeam kisses the rustling crimson leaves. Others drift with the early autumn breeze.  Treetops brushed with green and gold sway. Hanging orange leaves dance to the hum of the cicadas and the song of the gold finches. The white throated sparrow chimes in with his two cents. The once green ground cover is now littered with ruby and gold. Evergreens laugh at the naked cherries and sycamores. The mare doesn’t mind, she’s busy tidying the apple tree. The amber showers fall like a fairytale. The boy watches in wonder and the lone cypress smiles. The ebb and flow of the autumn clogged creak harmonizes with the caw of the old crow. A lopsided pine listens with content. The mare winnies, the star struck boy beams. Another apple I suppose.

Midnight’s shadow slips,

Silken paws and golden eyes,

Fate purrs in the dark.

My birthday gave me gifts that should be given to a four-year-old and more THINGS to

find a place for. But when the party was over I was left with possessions I wanted, but

didn’t know why. The day was all about me but as I walked through school, I was

reminded that nobody knew it was my day, let alone my name.

When I planned my party I used to invite everyone in my class. When I planned a party I

invited ALL my friends. When I planned my party I invited my closest friends. When I

planned my party I invited my best friend.

My mom asked who I wanted to invite to my party this year.

I went through my mind, scavenging for a name of a body that would actually show up,

but nobody’s name came to mind.

It’s my sweet sixteen, it's my big year, it's the year to have a huge party and invite

everyone. I invited everyone who wanted to come, no one. I didn’t invite myself to my

own birthday party, because I didn’t want to see the emptiness lingering in the cold and

vast room. I didn’t want to face the fact that nobody showed up to my birthday party, so

I told myself everyone I invited came, because they did.

This year I didn’t have a party, despite the tradition of 15 years.

What’s so special about a party anyway?

Maybe people like hanging out with their friends, maybe people like having a big party,

maybe people like seeing all the people who care for them gathered in a room to

celebrate themselves, but I don’t really care to see everyone who cares about me, because

I already know what it’d look like.

When people ask me how my sweet sixteen was when I’m older, I’ll lie to them.

I’ll tell them nobody showed up instead of telling them not a single person missed it. I

wonder if anyone would’ve come if I invited them, I wonder If they’d just show up

because they had to.

This year I didn’t have a birthday party, because I know I don’t deserve to be celebrated;

so it faded away into all the other days, just like I have.

I wake up every morning and forget the pain that I felt that night.

I forget the pain and hardships accompanied by fight or flight. 

The dark time after dawn, when the sun goes to rest; 

my mind begins to break down after too much social interaction and stress. 

But in the autopilot of the morning, you forget for at least an hour or two

All the pain that the past night discarded onto you.

I will always remember that evening, the moment I thought would never reach me, that

disintegrated the invisible barrier I had taken refuge in ever since I was a child.

I will always remember my mother’s dejected and undisturbed tone as she spoke her words.

I will always remember that feeling of indifference while realizing that time, the eternal

metronome, doesn’t stop conquering lives, not even that of my grandfather.

I will always remember how all the noise of vacation laughter and joy escaped my head.

I will always remember standing there, cluelessly guilty as to what to feel and think.

I will always remember that moment when it became reality that the incessant flow of the

hourglass has no empathy once it begins.

I will always remember that evening, even if all my ambitious desires retired from my mind.

Always.

I wish I could read people’s thoughts.

Every wonder and hope and want and emotion-

I wish I could know how they really are,

Because people aren’t good at opening up.

What happens when you’re not okay?

What happens if it doesn’t go you’re way?

What happens if life doesn’t work out?

Why do I stress about the unknown? -because it’s scary not to know your future.

I am so focused on the future I forget to live in the present

I hate all the stress that comes with being an adolescent

I’m lost in a sea of thoughts, my body is moving through life but my mind is frozen in place. 

My life is like a movie, it isn’t real… but what happens when it breaks?

When my mind completely separates from my body and when I’m no longer awake.

What happens when my thoughts numb and my brain gets dumb and I stop thinking at all?

Everybody’s got that one person they grew up with…

Everybody but me.

I grew up alone;

I cried alone,

I smiled alone,

I died alone.

Every moment was locked behind a screen.

I grew up when the world paused;

My world started as soon as the rest of the world stopped.

I didn’t have someone who experienced it all with me, because I had no one with me.

When the world locked up,

My world broke down.

I went through the pain and suffering of growing up, without the world.

Everyone grew up with someone, but I grew up with no one.

I hate February

It’s spelled weirdly;

it’s cold but not cold enough to be cold and it’s not warm enough to go outside;

you lose all your New Year’s resolutions after they've already been tried.

Valentine’s Day is confusing, even couples still feel bad;

The sky is still gray, it looks gloomy and so sad

it feels like it’s holding me back, it makes me feel stuck.

School continues to drag on and in getting snow days we've had no luck

it doesn’t feel right.

I hate winter

I can’t go outside and enjoy the grassy, blooming scene

Because there’s barely a chance that your eye catches the color green

All I want to do is lay on the sidewalk and feel the sun beaming down on my skin

All I want to do is go outside without being blown away by the wind

I just want to be okay, but February’s in the way.

Sometimes life feels normal, 

A routine

A schedule

Today will be over soon.

Day after day, we know what to do and how to do it.

But when I met you, you weren’t normal…

You didn’t push through every day like a routine, you made it feel special

Every second with you, I would hope that it would never end

And every moment I wasn’t with you, you were still on my mind. 

You made my life feel special,

I wasn’t a robot anymore, I was yours

People have hurt me because I gave them the chance;

I got lost within the circumstance.

I let them in my heart because I wanted in theirs,

I desired to see their unwritten prayer.

I yearned to be within their broken heart,

but now I’m back at the beginning again wondering where to start.

I let you in without thinking,

I forgot to assess your soul…

Because I forgot that I don’t know you

As a whole.

Letting you in was a mistake

because it lead to a heartbreak.

Maybe I’m not good enough, maybe you aren’t either;

If only at the time I knew,

In the game of life, you’re a cheater.

I’m sorry, I know, it’s my fault,

I know it’s my mistake,

Because I trusted someone who turned out

just to be a snake.

Woah, where did life go?

Just a second ago I was a little girl dancing in a ballet show.

I was happy and free and innocent

Where did that girl go?

What happened to the laughter?

What happened to the smiles?

The laughter got replaced with lies and the smiles got replaced with cries.

when I close my eyes I still remember her…

That blushing face, that curly hair, that jewelry lover, that little girl was so unaware.

It’s unfair that the little girl had to go and grow up, she was happy until she did.

But now that she’s older, she doesn’t feel any wiser.

She’s not the same girl but she has the same face.

She’s not the same girl, but she’s still the same race.

She’s not the same girl and she’s not the same height,

but she still always finds herself in a fight.

What happened to the good old days? Now those times are just a haze.

She wished that she would just grow up faster,

but that little girl was so wrong.

She should’ve never hoped to be a teenager, 

because this whole process is really long.

If only I could go back in time, then perhaps she’d still be here.

But I can’t, so now that little girl gets farther away with every passing year.

I have to say that I’ll miss you in a poem

It is far too much to verbalize it

My throat closes

My vision blurs with tears

My brain spirals

Even writing this, my face is dripping wet

I can’t think about how we’ll never be kids again

No more games on the playset

No more Just Dance battles

No more arguing over the bathroom

That chapter has ended

We’re grown

You have to go.

I have to stay,

Watch your room get dusty,

Eye your empty chair at the island,

Wait with Ruby, anxious for your return.

Every picture I have of home in my head has been filled with your color

Vibrant and strong

But now the paintings are shifting

Almost unrecognizable.

Because you’re gone.

And I can’t even be mad about it

Because I know you’re gonna do great things

And I know that this will be the best experience of your life

And I'm so proud of you.

But that doesn’t stop my mourning

My longing

To go back to watching Trollhunters and Ninjago

When college seemed like universes away

And we were young

And together

I miss that.

I miss you.

I love you.

I know you’re not gone forever

And you haven't abandoned me

But this just feels too much

I feel too alone

No more sisters here

Half my heart is missing,

Trailing after you both.

How can I survive?

My world is flipped upside down and hollowed out

And I have to pretend it is normal

That it's okay

When all my heart is aching for a late-night boba run

Or a sibling sleepover

Or just a hug from you

To confirm you’re real

You’re safe

You’re with me.

I want to tell you this in person

But I get too sloppy

My words don’t do my emotions justice

I cry too much.

I have to stick with what I know,

Poems and songs

Don McLean articulates everything that's happening so well

“Empty rooms that echo as I climb the stairs

 And empty clothes that drape and fall on empty chairs

 And I wonder if you know

 That I never understood 

That although you said you'd go 

Until you did I never thought you would”

(Empty Chairs)

And I don’t want to make you feel bad for going

Because I want this for you

And I know it will get easier

It just doesn’t feel that way right now.

Because I look into your eyes and see little you

Artsy, smart, fiery, innocent

But then I look at the rest of your face

Matured, beautiful, passionate

And I wonder when you grew up

When we grew up.

But I know little you is still within you

And I know it's going to be okay.

Because we’re sisters

And nothing can change that

Not even your stupid college.

So this is my sendoff

A measly goodbye (for now)

Written by a timid little girl

Too scared of crying

Who has to say ‘I’ll miss you’ in a poem

Glowing screens ablaze

Whirring wheels of code spin fast

Silent digital

Halls of learning rise

Echoes of laughter and tears

Youth's endless pursuit

Warmth on sun-kissed skin

Summer days stretch, lazy slow

Freedom's sweet delight

Courtside tears fall slow

Seniors' last serve, goodbye call

 Memories remain

Sweat-drenched court ablaze

Rivals clash, passion's fire burns

Victory's sweet taste

Setting sun ignites,

spirits rise with every wake,

victory awaits.

Rico, poco, ruffs

Bouncing, healing, everywhere

We will always win

Walking Home

I always walk home

It usually is alone

Gives me time to think

Need to Succeed

Working hard can suck

You have to sacrifice life

It’ll be worth it

Lonely...

Sometimes in a group

You still feel all by yourself

Loneliness does that

Sophomore year

Only a year passed

Yet everything somehow changed

Time has gone too fast

My father hit a 

Deer a still portrait of death

Then I watched him cry

My advisor, Tom, encourages me to

“Get out of my comfort zone”

And “Share myself with the people around me”.

I tell him that I already tried that

With him, and that now he can’t stand me.

(He doesn’t deny it.)

I think he thinks that I am digging my own comfortable grave that

I will bury myself in and Die.

I quite enjoy my comfortable grave.

I have dug it faithfully

And now I will lie in it.

When Tom sees me

Stewing in my solitude,

He pictures my seclusion as

A void. A chasm,

In which nothing resides except Scrivener and I

and the Joes and Sues of my mind.

I am a fissure to be Filled.

A tear to be Sewn up.

(And Patched Over.)

(And Forgotten.)

My solitude

Shines. Flowers. Has an ocean, a sky,

And rocky hills that pour into a sweep of rippling grassland.

The world is looking for a World Like Mine—

Nothing quite so fathomable as anything

Tom has ever thought of.

(I do enjoy the little things).

a king once ruled from a golden hall

his land was green and good

but his pride built towers to mount his fall

and on a precipice he stood

a witch walked into the hall one day

and raised her gnarled hands

and said, ash to flesh to king to gray

to a broken little man

the king at once sent for his guard

and assumed that that was that

but storming in from the courtyard

came a drowsy little cat

what have you done with my sentry?

demanded the king, his face red

but the witch left the hall carelessly

and over her shoulder, she said:

ash to flesh to king to bones

in ground, in peace, in death

a waste of hubris-laden thrones

for the cat, it’s just a bed

My mother makes loaves of bread like Rhea made her babies

With love, then horror as they are consumed by her husband

Little hands, little feet,  

A love once pure, is now incomplete.  

In the echoes of a shattered trust,  

A mother's plea, a father's rust.  

Don't take my baby boy,  

Don't steal my pride, my endless joy.  

Though pain may linger, tears may fall,  

In love's embrace, we stand tall.  

For time may fade, and hearts may fray,  

But in our arms, our love will stay.  

Walk tall, little one, through it all,  

Together, we rise, we stand, we call.

Inspired by, Childish Gambino’s Album “Awaken, My Love”

Your soul your spirit reminds me of sparrows

Fleeting foregoing and forgetting 

Will you ever forgive me for my wrongdoings 

I long for your love and life 

Nothing compares in the narrow narrative of our notes of notion

I love you but because we can’t believe each other we will live in the longest lie

That we belong to black spaces in our shadows. 

The amount of times I open that door of Panera's

Is the amount of times I get a free beverage there

Usually order the iced coffee or the Passion Fruit Papaya Green Tea

Perhaps I’ll go diabetic one day

I drink so many grams of sugar

Then again, I can just order water next time

So the future isn’t as bleak as I thought it would be?

I hate Getty Pics

They are the bane of my life

When will I evolve?

Pencils ready, questions set,

Calculus problems make us sweat.

Graphs that curve and slope away,

Limits that stretch, refusing to stay.

Derivatives find how fast things change,

Integrals sum up, range by range.

The clock ticks fast, so much to do,

Each formula a clue to pursue.

When the last answer’s found, we all rest,

Proud to have tackled the calculus test.

I WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER that cold summer night, the night the Milky Way glanced upon

Earth and turned all humble who bared it.

I will always remember reading the poetry of stars and constellations.

I will always remember the worlds thousands of light years away staring at the tiny world

I call home.

I will always remember seeing the cosmos at its finest hour, and feeling my place in a

vast universe.

I will always remember talking to the sky, and gazing at the stars long enough that the

stars gazed into me.

I will always remember reaching for those heavens and coming up short with a handful

of clouds.

I will always remember that subduing night sky, regardless of how frequent it exposes

its marvel upon Earth.

Always.

What lies in Langley has broken thousands of codes

The rocks point towards the magnetic field of Earth

While the morse sounds nothing swerve

An abscissa is formed, they say

Yet math isn’t the priority, according to the way

It was totally invisible, how’s that possible?

The coordinates point to the field, the field to the code, the code to the impossible

With trembling hands, one of the tombs is apparently revealed

Yet nothing is opened, and the final passage remains sealed

The Berlin Clock ticks as we await more clues

East, northeast, is it just an attempt to shoo?

Whispers of the wind so light

Dancing leaves in gentle flight

Under the moon's soft silvery glow

Secrets of the night begin to show

Stars twinkle in the velvet sky

Wishes on their tails fly high

In dreams we chase what we yearn

With every sunrise, we learn

Here I am, running.

Running hard, all the nature.

Running on the running path.

Grey skies and dark clouds,

Slushy grass, lots of sorrow.

Winter needs to end.

Oh how I love time at home,

But not the home you think of.

My home between two batter’s boxes,

The center of my love.

My home has seen my brightest moments,

Scoring, stealing, big, clutch hits.

My home has seen my greatest downfalls,

Lots of strikeouts, swing and miss.

Home was always there for me,

For that I’m always thrilled.

Home plate is my favorite place,

For the qualities in me instilled.

The sun is shining,

The sky is blue.

I’m eating lunch,

Across from you.

My hair is wet,

The pavement, scorching.

The summer skies,

A storm is lurking.

Your laughter fills the air with joy,

Your green eyes make me smile.

Oh, how I love lunch with you,

It’s been a long long while.

The breeze is cooling for both of us,

And chills roll down my spine.

The rain has started falling, hard,

Chilling off this hot July.

You stand up to dance,

You wave your arms about.

Together, we twirl in the rain,

We giggle, scream, and shout.

The rain is pounding,

Thunder roars.

You relentlessly frolic,

The world is yours.

As the powerful rain starts to dim down,

Your smile never yields.

You always make for a fun, fun time,

All my pain is healed.

Soaking wet, we sit back down,

Our hair is really dripping.

The clouds are fading one by one,

The summer days are slipping.

Our conversations never end,

I could talk to you for years.

The gossip, goals, and dreams we share,

Our hopes and wishes, plans and fears.

The sun is shining,

The sky is blue.

I’m eating lunch,

Across from you.

In fields of black where wildflowers

No longer sway

A consuming, emerging darkness devours

The sky in disarray

A fearsome beast, through the surroundings scours

Softly entering the fray

6 Balloons, in the pursuit of the sun

5 balloons, snaking upwards as one

4 balloons, past the clouds they spun

3 balloons, a dangerous race begun

2 balloons, accelerating as they run

1 balloon, reduced to none

Happiness is nature 

It is the winds blowing 

Happiness is family 

Surrounded by them at night

Happiness is relaxing

WIthout a care at all

Happiness is what you make of it 

Every morning

Without fail

You are breathtakingly

Painted.

The palette depends on the mood

Brilliant shades of banana yellow and cotton candy

pink

Or startling hues of bright orange and fire engine red.

I gather

Captivated by your effulgence;

Reminded that it is a new day.

But

How do you feel

Being cloaked in beauty

To cover up your true blue exterior?

Do you grow saddened at the thought

That the humans love you more

When your imperfections are momentarily hidden

Under a disguise designed to draw attention?

Or

Do you feel gorgeous

Adorned in glowing rays of sunshine

Eager to sit quietly behind the mask?

sometimes i feel like a failure,

angry at myself, the world

falling

into the depths

of my bedsheets

but then

i sit on a warm spring day

with people who love me for who i am

a warm pesto sandwich

dripping down my hands

a limp pickle

hanging on the edge of my plate.

i roll the windows down

drive a little

too fast

the music a little

too loud

just like me.

i buy a dress that fits

just right

and attend a pilates class

with friends

and laugh at our struggle.

i dye my hair

just a little lighter

like how i feel.

becoming free again

Where I’m From

I am from vegetable gardens and kimchi fridges

From thermal rock beds to framed bible verses

I am from hot summers spent outside

Playing soccer barefoot in the refreshing dewy grass.

I am from picking wildberries amidst bushes of thorns

Taste recalled as honeyed drupelets

I am from chestnuts and persimmons

Winters spent wrapped in soft linens

The quilts I remember since the beginning

I am from being awoken by noise at the brink of dawn

Following my grandmother into the garden

From samples of yet-to-be-ripe grapes and the two twin korean pear trees

I am from soojebi soup to jjajangmyeon on special milestones

I am from pho restaurants on rainy days

Dad resting the soaked umbrella next to our table

In the corner of my closet

Concealed by my mother’s coats

A bulky plastic bin with memories frozen in rectangle notes

Colorful and nostalgic

The houses which I recall small fragments

The little girl smiling back

And I smile back at her

Four eloquent and divine, woman, in gowns one of a kind,

In walk three others who could be lasting-lovers,

Who will they choose?

Bodies swing back and forth, dance until their heels are worn to flats, and their spirits casts

Until across the floor, the first pair is made

What a match, perfect in every way, will the fate of the others be the same?

Sweets of every kind, so three lasting woman dined,

Only to find wine from an old time, temping to the tongue, who shall dare sip?

Faerie wine, must I try, a faerie wine for rosy cheeks, red lips, and a lasting heart beat, than he

will chose me,

Sip so she did, sipped the glass dry, eyes wide she stared up at the sky,

From the corner of her eye, she spied her sisters, their figures becoming smaller as they left the

ballroom mated at last,

My fate, to be alone, sipping the faerie wine, has cursed me so?

The fun has ended.

The holidays are slowly getting farther, and farther apart.

The fun times were splendid.

But the love from the bottom of our heart

Does not want the carefree lifestyle to disappear.

But it is time to focus.

As the long days become our fear,

Our work, we must notice.

As we shed a tear,

Remember the holiday season.

brain waves twist and turn

thoughts dance in the dead of night

here, dreams and nightmares

In the world of words, where stories dance,

A symphony of letters, leaving you in a sweet trance

Chapters whisper tales of far-away lands,

Created by pens with graceful hands.

In ink and paper, stories take flight,

Literature's magic, pure delight.

Pages whisper events untold,

In every story, a universe unfolds.

In a world where hunger stands,

No one but me understands

The delectable meal between two buns

The chicken sandwich, of which I could eat tons.

A harmony of flavors, a crispy embrace,

Every bite I chase

Spices dance in a crispy coat,

A perfect blend that warms my throat.

Lettuce and tomato, fresh and green,

Add a vibrant burst to the cuisine.

From fast-food joints to gourmet grace,

The chicken sandwich finds its place.

The chicken sandwich and I will never depart

As it will always hold a true space in my heart.

reduced to a harbor of carbon

you’re starving and starring and starting

to sob, hurl your soul into the toilet bowl

rob yourself of feeling whole

stop yourself, drop yourself,

dull yourself, cull yourself

be full, feel the pull

ash light scores the mezzanine

ash like methamphetamines

burn the body, make it clean

hip waist lip face ribcage gleam

ash like last night's growing pains

ash like sleep tight's crack cocaine

ash pale like the toilet bowl

ash like healthy fitness goals

stop yourself, knock yourself

back a step, don't forget to

check yourself, wreck yourself

inspect yourself, apple sweet

like all the worries that you eat

ash like sugar mountain sleet

ash immortalizing me

High Expectations weigh down

People’s beliefs and pressures

Crushing down like Rocks

Ignored for my whole life

Neglected

Then chastised for independence

A failure

A pretender

A fraud

“Fake it till you make it”

But what if I never make it?

Trying so hard to please

So many different faces and masks

Exhausted and tired

I just want to sleep and rest

Always working

The product of her own ambitions

Effortlessly successful

“I wish my daughter was like that”

“Wise beyond her years”

“Mature and Smart”

Independent

A social butterfly,

flitting from place to place

Life of the party

Never ending Social Battery,

An energy bank

Juggling everything at once

Academic weapon and woman in STEM

She’ll make the news one day

Guaranteed to be happy

Friendship is a precious gem,

A good friend is a treasure; cherish them.

It's a bond that's strongest when built over time,

And a relationship of trust and support is divine.

Friends are the people who accept us as we are,

And even after trials, they are never afar.

Friends are the ones who support our dreams,

And support us through life's turbulent streams.

They're the ones who shape our lives,

And we share memories that forever survive.

So, for them, always be there,

Because true friends are very rare.

“If only” is all we can say

“If only” is all we can ask

“If only” is all we can’t do

What we have left in these palms is the bitter present, stained with tears of pain

People say “move on, be strong”

But, how

People say “this isn’t what they would want”

But, I never wanted this either

People say “it’s okay”

But, it’s not, and it never will be

So, I sit in this empty world

With a grief-stricken life,

Searching for a way to erase the “If only” and replace it with the words “Never again”

Demanding action.

Pursuing justice.

Daring people to ask “What can I do?”

I haven't even left yet,

But I already miss you all so much.

I miss the sound of your laughter,

The warmth of your hugs,

And the love in your eyes.

I miss my home,

With its familiar smells and sounds.

I miss my room,

With all my favorite things.

And I miss my dog,

With her wagging tail and copious kisses.

I know that I'll see you all again soon,

But it still feels like I'm losing you.

I'm scared of the unknown,

And I don't want to leave you behind.

From toddlerhood, we are told to keep our hands to ourselves

Constantly reminded of personal bubbles

A fundamental lesson engrained in our minds for as long as we can remember

For some, this is our first experience learning to set boundaries

As we learn and grow we set more and respect each other's

And yet.

I spelled out my limits

You knew that it was wrong

And yet.

Now I’m left with blurry eyes and blurred lines

You would think you would be the one to be scrutinized in this situation

And yet.

It is a silent, silver sky that greets me every morning

with streaks of cadmium yellow and cerulean blue 

feathered among titanium white clouds

I can just barely glimpse the sun peeking out in the corner of my vision

It is there, I know, always there

But lying unseen until it emerges

Sometime later -- when I am getting dressed

To paint the sky awash with vermillion and bright, gleaming orange

The clouds have disappeared, now

There are no more pinpoint stars speckling the sky

They have been drowned out by birdsong and sputtering car engines

I think I preferred the silver

But there is no way to turn back the sun

I don't know how to explain to them

That I'm breaking

My mind is racing

But only focused on one thing

My body is shaking

And it feels like I'm cracking

I'm coming undone

I'm breaking

But that's okay

I need to break

And then rebuild

To feel and process

And then let go

To reconstruct the light in my eyes

And the smile on my face

I will break

And then I'll be okay

But I cannot simply move on

And paint a pretty face

They cannot just wash everything away

So I need them

To let me break 

The hawk circled her prey

As it sat in the dirt and let the rain drown its hair

As it cried useless tears and sobbed useless sounds

The tiger stalked his prey

As it curled up in pain and let the mud stain its clothes

As it cried useless tears and sobbed useless sounds

The hawk watched her prey

As it stood up, dusted off its clothes

As it took a deep breath and then smiled

The tiger watched his prey

As it relaxed, rolled over

As it laughed, hands reaching for the stars

And then she struck

And then he struck

Murky waters, 

Black and blue, 

Turbulent tides, 

Red and blue, 

Crossing the bridge, 

Sowing the tatters, 

Together, a picture, 

Of laughter then cries then fights, 

Breaking the bridge, 

Ripping the tatters, 

Separate, a tale, 

Of loss and hurt and truth, 

Murky waters, 

Black and blue, 

Turbulent tides, 

Red and blue

A clear reflection, 

No waver nor wallow, 

A pristine drop, staining red, 

Weaving tales, of love unsaid,

Passion, hope, sorrowed crystal tears, 

A world away, truth bleared, 

Unfolded, red upon black

oh, my love, how i miss you

i am alone now

with flashing lights behind my eyes 

and the beat of too-loud music ringing in my ears

the room is a mess

plastic cups and bottles half-full of sticky liquid 

that runs in rivulets across the floor

remnants of the party i held to forget you

but i can’t forget you, can i?

even surrounded by disorder and chaos

all i was able to think of was your lips on mine,

your hand in my hair and your arms around my waist

it’s morning now --

and i’ve had enough to drink that i can see are blurry figures

dashing through the hallways of my home,

peeking around corners before fading

i think i see you for a second

but i blink and then you disappear

oh, my heart, how i miss you

but now i am surrounded by trash and passed-out bodies

on a grimy kitchen floor

and the careful order of my life is scattered 

left behind, and all i can think of is 

entropy

my physics teacher,

when she taught about melting ice

and boiling water

but there are no gaseous molecules here,

only the dirt and the mess around me

and you, just out of reach

You can be alone, but happy.

You can be with no one but yourself and still find joy.

Solitude begins when silence starts to haunt you, and no sound or presence can ever change that.

there are days

when i want nothing more than to be alone.

warm, still silence enveloping, slipping into a pool of reflection and thought.

uninterrupted.

some days,

making the words come out is

too much.

it is the boulder uphill to open my mouth and

speak.

i worry that no one wants to hear what i have to say.

i stay silent,

speak when spoken to.

hide away from the judgement and stares,

for they cannot hurt you if you keep it all in.

self-contained, calculated.

i am an island on a raging ocean,

safe from those who would harm me.

the loneliness is the price i must pay.

isolation is cliche.

it is a warm blanket of barbed wire.

Their voices blur

Their faces faded beyond recognition

The warmth of their joy

Wholly dissipated 

By a cold weight settling in my chest.

They see someone strong, someone stubborn

I see someone brittle, someone in denial

Too proud to admit their own vulnerability.

They see someone perfect- perfect grades, perfect extracurriculars

I see the perfection of walls crafted with years of practice

Perfectly concealing the foundation crumbling and rotting.

They see someone put-together and level headed

I see someone haphazardly gluing pieces back together like a 2nd grade art project

Whose neck is held by a metal brace to correct their skewed view of the world.

They see someone laughing with the rest of them, inhumanly attentive to every small remark 

I see someone carefully noting what actions they must replicate to be accepted

Filing away information to use when inevitably their prior analyses fail them.

To be so completely surrounded by people

And yet to be so utterly alone.

It is easy to fall prey to hurt 

When it comes from people 

Who are supposed to

Protect you from it.  

Yet, here I am once again.

Tears flowing down my face. 

Heart rapidly racing. 

My hands shaky

My breath getting shorter,

Suddenly I’m gasping for air.

Lost in thoughts,

Replaying all that you had said to me. 

I feel like I am dying. 

Why are you just standing there?

Have you no pity?

What did I do to treat me like this?

I didn’t ask to be here. 

You often wonder why 

I'm always in my room 

In my own world. 

You believed yelling and hitting

"Tough love" when it was 

Truthfully just abuse.

Repeatedly being told 

I was "talking back" 

When i was attempting to 

Express my thoughts 

and my emotions.

Never showed sympathy 

To my emotional side

Instead, I was told "suck it up"

Or "I'll give you something to cry for"

Instead of listening 

You judge, project, 

And dismiss. 

“Respect,” you say. 

Respect is earned. 

You have birthed me 

Yet you have mistreated me. 

Family is blood they say. 

A part of me wants to agree,

But I can't. 

You have shown me

Family isn't always blood. 

You have shown me

Family can hurt too. 

You taught me to fake a smile 

Yet, never saw the

Sniffles from my 

night silent cries. 

"I’m a great parent", you say

"Well your brother and sister 

Never had a problem 

Talking to me", you say. 

Can't you see I'm not them.

Can't you see I'm me.

I'm different. 

The parenting skills you 

received as a child 

And even used as a parent, 

Doesn't work with me. 

The saddest part is, 

I know i will always be burdened 

By the consequential malice. 

I am now burdened to watch my every step

Every move terrified 

That it will be mirroring mannerisms

I resent so strongly 

The chronic anxiety 

Might just be worse than 

Inheriting my worst fear. 

Mirroring your actions will haunt me

As i grow mentally, I will always be wary 

Always ruminating my words and actions. 

Tears budding in my eyes

I swallow my sobs

I tamper down each feeling

Mending each scar with a smile

We are told we are too emotional

We are told crying shows weakness

What we are told defines me

I am malleable

Tell me who I am.

My eyes are always dry and red

A slight breeze causes tears to percolate.

I am proud of my acceptance of crying

It shows strength

It shows confidence

To face one’s emotions.

Why live a dulled life?

We are emotional and I love to feel

I feel my emotions and others.

It’s fulfilling.

Taking other’s pain

I smile through adversity

Always positive.

The moon casts a silver glow

Upon the dark, still water

As I glide along in my boat,

Alone in the silent night.

The only sound is the gentle lapping

Of the waves against the shore,

And the distant call of an owl,

An eerie, yet soothing roar.

The stars shine like diamonds

In the black velvet sky,

And I feel a sense of wonder

As I drift along, so high.

I am surrounded by darkness,

But it does not scare me here,

For on this lake at midnight,

I find peace and no fear.

The tranquility of the night

Wraps around me like a cloak,

And I am content to simply float,

Drifting without aim or hope.

As the night wears on,

I am filled with a sense of awe,

For on this lake at midnight,

I am truly living raw.

Eight years later and now I’m really almost outta here.

If only I could see me now, how would I feel?

I really regret giving away that little Luke Lego.

I got a new one at the end of junior year to fill the Lego hole.

Time is rushing by quick now,

And with the dawn of college essays and transcripts,

I’ve been thinking about sticking around.

But I know that I can’t.

I need to keep the pace lest I lose focus.

So lately I’ve been going back to cartoons to feel younger again,

And wondering about how I could’ve taken them for granted.

It’s hard not to be obvious when my mind is so full of the future.

The only way to keep up is with bluntness,

And weird fourth wall breaks that shouldn’t be acknowledged,

And now I’m just rambling, twiddling my thumbs,

And waiting to go to college.

It’s hard not to slow down, because I just know that

By the time I finish this line I’ll only be closer to Monday.

My birthday.

The big one eight.

The snapping of Lego bricks can only keep me sane

For so long, before I have to write for Amherst and sit and wait

For Wesleyan, Conn College, Macalester, and the other four.

It’s like finally sitting in the coaster car after waiting in line for hours

And realizing that, without the waiting anticipation,

Now you know what’s gonna happen.

Get to the hill,

Drop,

Stop,

Get out, 

And look at the line again.

Ever since I was small I was still big.

My mind was always young,

But everybody told me I had to grow into it.

So, when I was around ten, the big double digits,

I traded in the Magic Treehouse and picked up abridged Moby Dick.

I stopped watching Teen Titans and picked up more mature shit.

I looked around my room at my monkey bedspread,

And monkey shower curtain,

And desk with lego accents -

I tell you now it was always so stuffed with some new project

You couldn’t see where the wood began -

I said to myself that it was time to grow up.

I’m already ten, and that’s basically halfway until outta here.

There was no reason for lego Luke Skywalker to be in my space.

So I put him in a bag and put shelves up in his place.

The final straw came one day when I asked my dad to help

Deconstruct all the legos that I had left.

The shrill sounds of the pieces hitting the others in the bag

Was like a squad of little Paul Reveres ringing in my ears, saying,

“The future is coming!

The future is coming!”

And I still had eight more years.

White clouds on blue sky,

Green grass prickles my skin,

Airplanes fly by high,

Bees buzz around in twin.

There is a white fence around here

That has corroded to brown,

And the kids behind there

Never seem to quiet down.

A chain link monster stands there too,

Just behind the creek

That I wish would flow blue.

The fox, so young and scrappy,

Eats well in the brush.

The deer families thrive.

The birds never hush.

My home, my family, me.

We roam, but barely see

A world full of insects and plants.

Except when they end up in my pants

I walked by a man sitting on a bench

In a park shrouded with greenery

“I remember when they stopped the planes”

He said, and I stopped for his memory.

“I remember when the plants wouldn’t grow

And the leaves wouldn’t grow

And the children wouldn’t grow

And their minds wouldn’t grow.”

I sat with the man, this forlorn and scorned prophet.

I took off my shoes, and he told me to stop it.

“I remember when they stopped the planes”

He said, and his eyes grew distant

“I remember when the books were pulled out

And their pages torn out

And their authors dug up

With their memories ripped out”

The graves behind us shivered and shook.

He paused and he stopped them with nary a look.

“I remember when they stopped the planes”

He said, and his voice became desperate

“I remember when the fires burned down

And the signals went down

And the mountains fell down

When their protection fell down”

The wind shook his head

And his hair as he spoke.

The ghosts of the dead

And the older one’s joke.

“I remember that they started back up”

He said as he lied where he chose.

“But the fires never died

And the sound all died

And the memories all died

And my hometowns all died

And they died and died and died

Until it became dignified.”

The flowers bloomed over

The hole he had chosen.

His words in the air

Had forever frozen.

Like kings buried under the glorious mountain

To someday come home and save our souls,

But those kings sleep eternal

With empty memories.

For their burial mounds

Are always forgotten.

I have always wanted to travel to Hawaii.

To feel the soft white sand seeping through the cracks in my feet.

To smell the clean, fresh ocean air.

To observe the unique patterns and colors on the confident, beautiful sea turtles that swim with

pleasure all day and night long.

Hawaii was always my dream vacation.

And gladly, some dreams do come true.

This summer, my family and I traveled to Maui, Hawaii for the very first time.

As I walked down the pathway to get to the beach, I instantly felt the soft gentle breeze ruffle my

hair and heard the welcoming splashes of crashing waves against the shore.

The beach was private and almost entirely silent.

I stood at the shore, feeling the gentle waves engulf my feet.

I closed my eyes, taking in the spectacular feelings.

Taking in the moment.

I was finally here, in Maui, Hawaii.

Maui’s beaches were better than I thought.

I was six years and eleven months old when my baby sister was born.

Now I’m sixteen and she’s nine.

The time is going by too fast.

I remember the golden moment when I arrived at the hospital and saw her fragile body laying

down in bed, sleeping.

She had a pink and blue striped hat and wore the softest clothes I have ever felt.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

Because in my eyes, she was perfect.

It took a while for my family to choose a name for my baby sister, but in the end we chose Sohila.

When Sohila moved into her forever home, everything was so much better for me.

I had become an older sister, something that I’ve always wanted to be.

Sohila was the happiest baby I had ever seen.

She played with my old toys, wore my old clothes, and laughed every hour of every blessed day.

The happiness of having my own baby sister at home was something that I’ll never forget.

But she grew up too fast. Before I knew it, she was already a year old.

Over the years, she became a much happier person.

When she started talking she would never stop.

I loved when Sohila played, danced, and did everything with me.

Even though she’s nine years old now,

She will always be my baby sister.

The one who made me the most proudest older sister in the world.

I am proud of being Sikh.

Being Sikh means following a unique identity.

An identity that often makes me look different from others around me.

My long hair, my kara, and my Ik Onkar necklace make me stand out from the rest.

My long hair, often kept in braids, symbolizes the appreciation of the beautiful life I have.

My kara, a bangle made of silver that I wear on my right wrist, reminds me to always be true to

myself and others.

My Ik Onkar necklace reminds me that there is One God, Waheguru, who always with me no

matter what.

I think that faith is important, and I consider Sikhism as special and different.

I’m elated to say that my friends and family share the same beliefs with me.

The belief in doing seva, selfless service that helps humanity.

The belief in meditation and devotion to the Almighty Creator, Waheguru.

And the belief in truthful living.

Reading the Guru Granth Sahib in Gurmukhi allows me to immerse myself into the world of the

Gurus, the founders of Sikhism.

Doing Jap Ji Sahib in the mornings and Kirtan Sohila at night brings me intense bliss and

warmth.

The warmth that comes from being a Sikh.

The believer of One God, selfless service, and much more.

The believer of a true identity.

Laughter, happiness, and relaxation come from family reunions.

But I always feel a different type of joy.

A joy that fills me up with safety and fun as all my worries leave my mind.

In my heart the delight of a gathering is incomparable to anything else.

Meeting my grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins that I haven’t seen in years makes me

feel so special.

More special than ever before.

There’s something about family reunions that places a kind of warmth inside of me.

A softness that can’t come about otherwise.

A softness so tender it feels like ecstasy and bliss.

It’s hard to recall the feelings sometimes, especially when I’m not with my family.

But as I’m recalling the reunions of the past, the memories still fulfill me.

The experience is like I’m living within a safe haven.

My cousins’ home is just like a second one for me.

I will never forget my aunt’s kind words of welcome, the balloons she brought me every time my

family reached the airport in Arizona, and, most importantly, I will never forget her love.

Going back to my second home after years of distance changed me and my perspective of life.

It helped me realize and understand how much my family has helped me in the past.

I will never take family for granted again.

Because family reunions really do change everything.

“They need more water”

“Amma, come on. You’ve been there for 5 minutes.”

“They need more water”

“How do you know?”

“They told me”

My mom, the plant whisperer

Ever since we moved out of our apartment and into a house, my mom’s been spending less

time with me

Every evening, she meticulously waters her plants

The roses on the flower bed?

Five minutes.

The cherry tomatoes in the vegetable garden?

Five minutes.

The little basil plant growing on the deck.

Four minutes.

The babies don’t like too much water, she says.

In a world of constant change, my mom’s watering is like a perpetual clock

She never stops.

From the trip back from the Home Depot, she claimed those seedlings as her own.

She nurtured them.

Somedays I’ll walk out to the deck and see my mom speaking in her baby voice to that little

basil plant.

Other days, I’ll walk out to the vegetable garden, and hear my mom gossiping to the cherry

tomatoes.

Her plants are her friends.

So she treats them like friends.

Every drop that is released from her hose is her, giving life to her friends

Every drop that is released from her hose is her, giving love to her friends

Every drop that is released from her hose is her, giving time to her friends

I’m not going to lie, sometimes I get jealous of the plants

Somedays, she spends more time with them than me

But that jealousy, goes away

When I see the pure joy and satisfaction on my mother’s face

The wrinkles on her forehead light up which each drop of water

The dimples of her smile widen

She looks like a child, playing with her friends

“They need more water”

“Amma, come on. You’ve been there for 5 minutes.”

“They need more water”

“How do you know?”

“They told me”

Somehow, I don’t doubt that

As we sit at desks, holding buzzers–

Our tool of power

With which we seek to devour

All questions in our paths.

Tension, an emotion swirling and encircling in the air like buzzards–

I’m no doubt frightened, but more alive than ever

As this game never ceases to be 

An enthralling endeavor.

And while I’ll act like I’m clever,

Around me are the many specialists and aficionados

who consistently lead me to remind myself to strive to become better.

The more I discover and learn

The more my own universe manages to grow,

As the more you know, the more you understand

just how much there is that you don’t know,

And such possibility for self-fulfillment

Is what I draw hope from, though.

Always another topic to delve into

Knowledge is limitless–expanding like dough;

Which is why I work to stay studied up on my literature

The likes of Chaucer, Borges, and Poe.

If I were to underline the benefits

I can only explain in a way abstract like a Picasso,

As it remains a quite spiritual experience,

A learning process that I always seek to undergo.

While some would find

Such a sport of the mind

Absurd,

Unapproachable, 

Akin to a watermelon rind;

I take solace,

In the fact that Quiz Bowl is 

Both ruthless and lawless,

Yet comparatively to the typical grading system

Under which all students have “learned”

The nature of said club requires ones’

Praises and Points

To be concretely earned.

If nothing else, 

I’ve learned that the value in a happy place

Is about what you make it,

And that the solution to a challenge

Is all determined by

Your mindset and 

Which direction you’ll choose to take it. 

My Sanctuary

Get home from school

Slowly losing fuel

Need to find my comfort

When will I come first?

Time to sink into the world of art

Worlds apart

Time to hideaway

Time to end the day

Lose myself in the world painting

Distract myself from all the fainting

Ease myself off the plateau

Crochet, mend, and try to sew

My world on paper is full of color

My actual world is way duller

I want to escape

Get of this place

When I'm feeling uninspired

I just trace

So I’ll pick up a brush

Start to draw

Ignore the fact

My life is blah

you've never felt the sun, my darling 

i look at your skin it is 

unblemished

unwrinkled

your body is a sheet

pressed flat

draped inside and the wind has forsaken it

unflowing tethered

i can tell from your skin that you were born when

windows came from factories 

with nets on them

and were too thick to see your reflection in

you were born when the sky was a memory

for the flora that live forever

because no one has seen the sky for years and

years and years and years

you were born when clothes stopped 

hanging in the air

and started tumbling together while the water was 

beaten out of them

you were born when the lights did not flicker in flame

but flicker out

dark

you were born buried

miles below the earth and the sky and the everywhere place 

in between them

and you swallow little submarines carrying soldiers down your throat

to taste for a moment the strength that you would 

feel in gold

but the ship wrecks 

then breaks 

then drowns 

inside your hallowed bones

which seal the soldiers away in an 

unlit

mausoleum

and you forget the fortified glory of the past 

you've never felt the sun, my darling

that means you won't miss it

Rise at the same time everyday

Pack my school bag 

Worlds away

Past the days of playing tag

Drive to school

My shoulders drag

Teacher says we’ve got a test

Wonderful! I’ve had no rest

Get out my pencil and my paper

Time to be a good test taker 

I'm constantly thinking

What can I do?

I feel like I'm Sinking

2022

But i'll try to think positive 

Be a motivated go getter

Dream of the day

I get that acceptance letter 

So 2023 

New Year New Me

I'll pack up my troubles 

And someday be free 

Looking forward to the day 

Where my mind is hushed

My troubles at bay

My hair is brushed 

And I'll hold on 

For I know its coming

I can practically hear it

My future is drumming 

My future is bright 

My mind is growing

My assignments are in

And my ideas are flowing

Blank documents. 

Cursor blinking, waiting for words to fill the page.  

Sunlight filters through, weaker as the days go on, fading by the minute.

Distractions.

If I close my eyes, will it all go

away?

Words swirl, leaves blowing aimlessly in the wind.

Autumn arrives slowly, the days grow shorter, the clock ticks.

And the page is still blank.

Time flies

Tick Tock

The clock ticks faster

My pencil pushes into the paper

Creating a dark and round imprint

“Time”

It’s over

The goal of 12 months

A sigh of relief exists my mouth

I step out into the light

And breathe in freedom

Sizzling orange flame

Its gray smog floats around as

I sit and observe

I genuinely care about what’s going on 

I know I smile and nod,  

I know I repeat things already said. 

That’s because I’ve learned not to ask. 

I first learned to ask a million ways: 

“Again?” 

“Sorry- I didn’t get that.” 

“What was the last thing you said?” 

“What?” 

“Say the question again?” 

But too often I’ve gotten these: 

“Oh, I don’t even know” 

“Don’t interrupt” 

And the worst: 

“Nevermind.” 

Instead I will mention an idea already said, 

I will watch how others glance at 

The original creator of the idea. 

Instead I will mention an idea totally off topic, 

I will watch the confusion flash in their eyes. 

I know what I’ve done wrong from the second it leaves my mouth, 

Because I watch it in your faces. 

But can you see it in mine, 

When I don’t understand? 

Do you know why I repeat ideas? 

Why I go off topic? 

Or why I simply don’t talk in a group conversation? 

Can you see the squinting of my eyes? 

The wrinkles in my forehead? 

How my brows draw together? 

I tried to make it easier. 

If you get it, you know you do. 

If this is new, shame on you.

“Don’t worry about it” 

But I do. 

“-oh you’re grateful you can’t hear that” 

Hear what? Shouldn’t I make that choice? 

“Isn’t she so lucky, not having to listen to you” 

It’s a fact, not luck. 

“I’m so glad you didn’t hear my voice crack” 

I don’t care about your voice crack- what a selfish thing to say 

“It must be nice to live in quiet”

I don’t live in quiet. 

I live in a world of garbled noise,

understanding useless snippets, 

Seldom able to participate 

When I want to

And when I don’t. 

“And then she —— he couldn’t!!” 

“I can’t believe that!” 

*blank stares* 

“Uh- this conversation wasn’t meant for your ears” 

“Sorry.” 

Then why speak in front of me? 

You do it when you want me to understand 

You do it when you don’t want me to understand 

Pick an expectation 

I don’t hear enough to make my own choices. 

But I do hear enough to make my own opinions.

It didn’t take another moment for me to fall into a deep sleep of erratic peace and irritable hope. The mist veiled my rose-golden hue with opaque bitter grey and pearlescent green, the stench of jealousy masked with an overused perfume of hope. Back into the memories long buried into the past, I was taken to the younger years. When the Lab was nothing but a precious playground with infinite exploration to be done. That childlike innocence, where Shaya and I would make mischief in those hallways of onyx. We would jump with our tiny arms as wings and caw like the crows, yelling at the top of our lungs content. 

The days were only divided into a simple three: morning class and medicine, afternoon class and meditation, and of course, evening class and recitation. The children had no such responsibilities of the elder generations, just to memorize the decorum and principles. Father kept me closer to him then, taking me to most meetings and assemblies to watch and learn from his speech. Back when big sister and mother sat by his side, alive, and taught me everything to retain the humanity in myself. 

In the dream, I swam down into a sea of clouds as a child,catching paper planes and colorful words in the bright morning sky. In the distance was an island, and I aimed there out of curiosity. As I approached the land closer, I saw it wasn’t made of green grass or tall trees. It was starry lilac glitter mountains of all heights. The waters were glass reflections of whoever was near, a thousand of me at a time. The creatures bellowed the symphony of lights, beasts of leviathan measure calm amidst small prey. And I, with my wings of cloud, tapped my feet onto that celestial ground. 

And my colors held new hues I had never seen before, not one, but dozens between the primary scales.No emotion I could attribute to all, there wouldn't be enough words to describe the overwhelming sensation, but not so I got lost, yet found. All of them at once made sense in this hidden world.

,,Hey,stupid,” Shayari appeared, black hair piled high into a crown of ebony as her green eyes glowed with the stars around. ,,What are you waiting for?” 

,,Anpē,” my mother's smile reached me from her seat upon a throne of roses, as my sister's sharp gold eyes pierced across in her usual tomboyish way. I was surrounded by the three women who had shaped my future, and my heart became glad. 

,,I’m coming, I’m coming!” I laughed as Shaya tugged my hand along to visit the garden filled with luscious fruit. Rich violets and deep red gems of grapes, the viscous juice trailing down our chins each bite we took. And the colors didn't speak to me as they did everyday, but a silent aura of reassurance. The bright crown of light in the sky faded to a darker midnight, where the scene was left into soft petals falling on the shore that appeared. Soft froth lined the sand in a mooncast silver, and I was seated next to just Shayari. My mother and sister had faded into the stars,watching over us both. We had grown to our teen years, and the aura was not blinded by ignorance, but experience. 

,,It’s funny, isn’t it?” Shaya picked up a seashell, turning it over in the dim lighting and tossing it back into the sea. ,,How are we supposed to pretend that your sister never existed?” 

,,That’s what father said,” my naïve mouth opened, not controlled by what I knew now, but my past self alive. ,,She wasn’t supposed to do that.” 

,,If she didn’t, then someone else would have. I think we're all a little mad here,”she snorted. ,,And she wasn't entirely wrong either.” 

,,She didn’t have to choose violence,” I argued back, trying to reason. ,,Look at how much damage was caused at the end!”

”And you would stay quiet, even after all we have suffered?” Shaya shook her head with a bitter laugh. “It was a call to action. It was time to fight back.” 

“It took more lives lost, it took Elisha's Life!” I spoke harsher, getting upset by what Shaya was saying. I could hardly bear the thought of the tragedy where I lost half of my family. ,,Yes,we aren’t happy. Yes,we aren’t jumping for joy here. But it’s better than risking a rash decision with hardly any thinking.” 

“So we learn from her mistakes.” Shayari said simply,standing up and walking to the lapping waves. ,,Where she gathered people in the dark, we will make allies with the light. When she sought to leave at midnight, we strike by midday. And as she tried to bring everyone with her, we let a strong-willed leader to ensure the outside is safe, then bring everyone with them one, 

by one, by one.” 

The silence that came after was too close to what happened those months prior to her disappearance. When they sat next to each other during their recess and spoke, how serious she was, how definite her plan was outlined. I looked into those fiery green eyes that I somehow fell for, and found an answer to what she was thinking. I Couldn't Change her mind. There Was nothing I could’ve said that would have changed her mind. The slight horror must have reflected in my rose red and gold eyes, but Shayari refused to meet my eyes. She knew exactly what reproach would find her there. 

Between the gap, I gave a resigned exhale. I shifted closer to her, moving my garments of fluorescent ethereal sheets aside as my fingers brushed over hers on the sandy shores. Shaya didn’t move but kept her emerald gaze on the stars.Her face was hued to glowing caramel under the moonlight,casting her contour to a sharp shadowy enigma. My hand reached to brush back a few stray ebony strands laced with moonsilver, a trance that I couldn’t help myself in the moment of amour. Before I could touch her, a mighty crack emerged from the

sands, and geysers of great magnitude ripped with searing gases. I was forced into my feet, running to safety as I called to see where Shaya went. The earth shook with a mighty roar, crumbling beneath my feet. The sky that the titans held came crashing down like a thousand buildings, the deafening sound of thunder cracking across the broken utopia until it was a desolate land. And I was tossed back and forth by the deformed mountain terrain like a doll, rolling down, down, down. Gone were the violet hills and luminescent fowl. Gone was the harmony of tranquility. Gone was the assurance and solid ground beneath me as I slammed down into leveled dirt. It went for miles on end, like a desert, no man's land, not a sight of life. 

,,Shaya? Shayari,can you hear me?” I stumbled to my feet, brushing the grains off my hands and checking for injuries. Perhaps then  I remembered this was but a dream, for I was invincible to the realistic damages. Still, I was shaken by the shift in scenery. “Shaya? Are you here?” 

Alas, I called out to no avail. She was gone with the invisible wind that laid here in this vast celestial world. So I took up my slippers and ran after the mirage of hope that Shaya wasn’t too far, and let the grains of fire beneath my feet launch me forward. Under the laughing gold sun, the distance between any shore seemed to get longer and longer the faster I went, my panicked breath overriding my ability to reason. It was then the colors started flashing in burst clouds of bright red fear, the acrid smell of burning sugar. At first, I believed it was a sign of life: if I could sense fear, it must be coming off of someone, Shaya! But after another endless minute, it was clear to me. I was the one emitting this toxic plume of phobia. Wave it away as I might,with my hands fanning the untouchable mist, it grew more potent. It grew and grew until a snake took shape from these mighty clouds of crimson. Apophis, the Egyptian deity of chaos, had bared its fangs dripping with a viscous maroon liquid. The cloud condensed into this liquid overflowing from his mouth like a sweet, rotten wine, a perfect recipe for dividing order. I stood back, frozen in place with fear as the monster towered over me in thousands of

meters. What I was scared of, it relished like a delicacy. The true horror, feeding a monster that you could not control. A reflex of fight or flight, my stomach twisted in knots as bile rose and fell from my throat, but my lips were sealed with the wax of terror, unable to speak. 

Apophis curled its long, bloodred body, full with the liquid anxiety and boiling chaos by the vicious stare in its piercing golden eyes. I stared back to find my greatest fears swirling in them. Then with no warning at all, the snake lunged for my neck.

My heart doesn’t stop; my heart doesn’t skip a beat

But it feels as if it has a brain of its own

Just a glance makes me feel complete

But it's just a feeling

My stomach doesn’t drop; my stomach has no butterflies

But it's stirring as a I walk past 

a light brush makes me feel as if I’m watching the sunrise

But it’s just a feeling

I have everything

   But I still struggle

I have an education

   But I feel constantly stressed

I have a family

   But am constantly compared to everyone

I have food on the table

   But it will change my body,  my shape,  my figure

I have people who care

   But no one sees me for who I am; no one truly knows me

I have a place to sleep

      But I staying up late worrying what's to come

I have a home

   But the expectations are sky high

I don't have it as bad

   But I feel too much pressure

I am thankful

    But I'm tired

The grass is greener on the other side