Of Chinese heritage,
Born a girl,
Part of your destiny
Already written.
They said,
“Swallow your tears,
Swallow your opinion,
Swallow your voice,
Swallow identity itself.”
Your anger
Is your saving grace —
A phoenix born
From flames and prejudice.
And this phoenix cried,
“Cry your tears,
Speak your opinions
Make your voice heard
And reclaim your identity!”
Exhale,
And the puff of white
Proves I am alive.
Wake,
Warm and wrapped
In comfort.
Dress,
In layers of
Cotton, thermals, and fleece boots.
Gather,
So we can talk, eat
And laugh.
Hope,
That the snow will melt
And light comes soon.
Similar to sacred,
Akin to the divine and holy.
Does this definition apply to:
The single mother trying
To make ends meet.
Or the immigrant family
Who lost everything
For a new life?
What about
The spouse who supports
The whole family on their
Earnings, alone?
The soldier
Who gave their life
On the field?
And the human being
Who lives unabashedly
But lost their family
Friends, and world
On their journey?
Tell me,
Are these sacrifices
Sacred?
Lots of conversations,
Hard ones like how your
Jealousy is rooted insecurity,
Or how you wished one partner
Spent more time with you.
Or your partner is concerned
The new person you’re seeing
May be a red flag
In disguise.
There are nights
Where it is you and your partner
Cuddling and watching a movie together.
And some nights it is you with your partner and his
Other partner having dinner together.
Or vice versa.
No it is not about threesomes
Or orgies —
Least I haven’t had one yet.
There is heartache,
And betrayal,
Cheating, insecurity,
Scandal.
But monogamy
Has all of it too.
But above all,
There is love and
Acceptance.
Ask me a few years ago and I probably would be tell you the minute details of how my husband I met. It’s been over 15 years since then and my memory is already growing fuzzy. As a kid one of the things I was scared of losing were the memories I have of my loved ones. Then I realized I never wrote down how our first meeting went, at least to my recollection.
*~*~*
It’s August and we met on
Gaiaonline, a roleplaying
Website whose roots
Came from my hometown.
I’m sixteen? Maybe seventeen?
And you recently graduated
High School. Also —
Recently broken up
With your girlfriend of
Three years.
I lived under
A metaphorical rock
Where my life revolved around
Studying, school, grades,
Band, family, and home.
BUT!
I had an online boyfriend.
Scandalous, right?
My family would think so.
But when I wasn’t allowed to socialize
Or have friends over
Or date —
I got rebellious
And creative.
Things weren’t going
Well with my online boyfriend though.
And then I met you.
My teenaged self
Who never stayed up
Later than 11 PM
And voluntarily woke up
At 6 in the morning
On the weekends
You kept me up
Until 2 in the morning.
So I slept in
To the chagrin of my folks.
At a family dinner
I kept nodding off.
But on the
Third night
I dragged my mattress
To the floor.
So we could keep talking:
About our favorite color (blue)
About abortion (pro-choice),
About sandwiches (ew, dry sandwiches)
About what we wanted in life.
For once —
I was comfortable enough
To drop my
Guard.
That morning
I sat up straight on the mattress.
“James?”
I still had my headset on.
I heard your sleepy reply, “Yeah?”
“Did I fall asleep?”
So, I broke up with him
Because I fell in love
With you
In Three Days.
Sometimes I try to place
Distance between You
And Me.
It never works though.
I miss your honeyed voice
Which makes me
Want to kiss you.
I miss your laughter
Because the sound of it
Is euphoria
Personified.
And when we talk
There is a palpable connection —
At least…
It is for me.
I’m lured by the
Potential to explore you,
To see the facets instead
Of the prism.
For the chance
To appreciate all of you.
Even though the heartache
Is an ocean of sadness
And my heart is pierced with shards of glass —
Being away from you
Is a death sentence.
Things You Need To Make A Tapestry:
A flesh and bone loom
One needle, sharp as a snake
Weft made from the Manual of Life
And a beater to
Cement the yarns of pain and agony.
I stumble out of my childhood home
Black ooze dripping from my arms,
Welts on my skin.
The door is open askew,
And at the threshold,
Is a little girl, my kin.
Bowl-cut black hair,
Tremendous, curious eyes,
A normally happy disposition.
But she sports invisible wounds,
And she asks me,
“Why come? This is self flaggation.”
She speaks truth,
This is soul wrenching —
And maybe it is an addiction.
But there is a purpose
To these repeated visitations.
“We haven’t healed,
We are surrounded by love,
But shatter during disagreements.”
I pause and kneel —
“We are still haunted by our demons.”
So, we both say: “Can you come with me?
Let’s take a walk, breathe in
The trees, listen to the wind,
and talk about our life.”
And we remember
To be kind.
I live by this principle:
A person is like a planet,
Waiting to be explored.
It’s why I poke and prod,
Investigate, pry in caves
And crevices I shouldn’t.
I am searching for a conclusion, if
The planet is
Hospitable and Habitable,
Or Hostile and Hateful.
Sometimes a planet
Is lush and full of clear waters,
Pockmarked with craters and meteors.
Other times they are
Filled with raging volcanoes
And sulfuric rain.
But if I love a planet —
I invite them to stay in my
Orbit.
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