Jul 11

black tea (smells like home)

terroir (n.)
1. the characteristics of the environment
in which a food or wine is produced, including
regional and local climate, soil,
and topography.

2. the flavor imparted to
a food or wine by
such characteristics

but are we not the same?
are we not also products of our soil and the air we breathe,
our regions and our cultures?
are we not created by those around us, by
friends and families and
teachers and acquaintances
and everyone we've ever connected with?
are we not also seasoned by actions and experiences and
sensory details and
feelings, emotions?

aren't we all mirrors
reflecting everything we take in
back out into the world?
Jun 28

waiting

i waste my life waiting,

waiting for a response,
waiting for a message,
waiting for an invitation,
waiting for someone to reach out,

waiting for a signal,
waiting for a cue,
waiting for a sign,
waiting for permission to proceed,

waiting to decide,
waiting to act,
waiting to live

but what have i missed out on waiting
for life to come to me?
Jun 23

coffee with honey

she was surprised to find that
sometimes home can look like
a mother with eyes like
the mediterranean and a smile
soaked in honey

a feeling found in twisted
hair, as soft as moss and bitter
as black coffee, written
in tongues foreign yet familiar, in
dust that tickles your nose and in
laughter that shakes you to the core

sometimes home is a fleeting sense
of recognition, of familiarity
found in the corners of a smile or
the edges of softening eye
contact- that moment of "our
souls have known each other since
the beginning of time and
i would recognize you 
anywhere," perhaps you
truly see me

 
Jun 18
poem 1 comment challenge: YWP is...

YWP

YWP is a diary that will always listen,
will hear my screaming and my frustration,
my confusion and my introspection.

A mask I can hide behind
when I just need to disappear,
where nobody has to know the backstory,
who I really am,
they're willing to listen anyways.
I guess it isn't a mask-
it's the place where I can show my face

YWP is a place where nobody needs context to find meaning.
Nobody needs to know what I was thinking
or where I'm coming from
to find some form of connection,
of solidarity,
of community.
Jun 18

echo chamber

we debate in circles
yelling louder and louder
drowning out everyone but ourselves
hoping to come to a conclusion,
a consensus, a solution
that does not exist

over and over,
the same argument,
the same logic
that isn’t even our own,
we just spit what we hear,
louder and louder
until there’s nothing else,
turning violent and malevolent
until we don't even remember
why we're arguing

we think we’re being productive,
it’s for the greater good,
we’re making progress,
making the world a better place,
changing history
but really
all we’re doing
is destroying our relationships,
isolating ourselves
until there’s nothing left.
 
Jun 05

pride month

June is LGBTQ+ pride month,
after the anniversary of the Stonewall Riots,
June 28th, 1969,
the catalyst of my history,
an event you will never hear about in school
but an important part of our history nonetheless.

It is a month of celebration,
a month of truth and identity,
a month of color and of support,
about being proud of who you are
despite it all.

Yet secretly
no matter how surrounded by celebration I am
I still struggle to feel proud
because nobody has ever been proud
of people like me.
 
People assume I have no shame
that I keep nothing hidden
that I'm proud to my core
but they don't know who I truly am
because even I struggle
to know who I truly am
and where I truly fit in.

I am surrounded by love
and yet
it is still difficult
to be open,
to be honest,
to be proud.
Jun 04

strength

i survived
and i grew a thick skin,
thick like armor,
supposed to keep me safe

but really, all it has done
is hidden me
from the world,
filled me with
secrets and fear,
afraid of being seen

i thought i was
supposed to grow stronger
with time
but perhaps
i have just
become used to
hiding everything
perhaps my skin
is not so thick

perhaps i am just
as easily injured
i have just grown better
at hiding.
 
May 18

and now they never will

Sabika Sheikh was an exchange student
from Pakistan
She was supposed to go home in 17 days
and now she never will

Her family has waited all year to see her again
her sisters and her brothers,
her mom and her dad
and now they never will

She was killed during Ramadan
Her family found out during Iftar
This was supposed to be holy,
supposed to be a celebration.
What good are
thoughts and prayers
if they couldn't bring her home?

She was only here to learn
and yet
the price students pay to learn
is fear
is loss
is death

What are we going to do
because
until something changes
how can we guarantee
our safety
the safety of students like Sabika?

How can I feel safe knowing that
one day
there are things I
never will do
because of somebody with a gun?

So,
what now? 

Apr 03

Home(town)


"Don't you miss it?"
Of course I miss my hometown
I miss the big yellow house with the sunflowers in the window
I miss coconut and strawberry popsicles at the co-op in the summer
I miss my family
I miss the swingset and the rose gardens and the library
I miss my friends
I miss traditions
I miss half-price books and Jeni's and the fountains
I miss where I am from
But I do not miss the life we had
"Would you ever go back?"
I could never
Because everything has changed