Home
Young Writers Project

Search form

  • Login
  • DONATE
  • CREATE
    • RECENT POSTS
    • THE DAILY READ
  • COMMUNITY
    • TINY WRITES
    • BOOK CLUB
    • YWP PODCAST: Line Break
  • CHALLENGES
    • SUMMER OF STORIES: Challenges
    • SUMMER OF STORIES: Contest
    • JOURNALISM CHALLENGES
      • Journalism Project Info
    • THE GREAT POETS CHALLENGE
    • CHALLENGES BANK
    • YWP RESOURCES
  • PUBLICATIONS
    • ANTHOLOGY 12
      • Celebrate Anthology 12 Podcast!
    • THE VOICE
    • SPECIAL ISSUES: The ELM 2021-22
      • The ELM 2020-21
      • The ELM 2019-20
    • MEDIA PARTNERS
    • YWP NEWSLETTER
    • ANNUAL REPORT
  • ABOUT
    • ABOUT YWP
    • "YWP is ..." Who we are!
    • PERMISSION FORM
    • TERMS & CONDITIONS OF USE
    • CONTACT US
  • Donate
  • LOG IN/JOIN
Previous Post
Next Post
Nov 10
poem
Ingkeu-writer's picture
Ingkeu-writer

monday, october 7th


i close my eyes and i’m taken back 

to monday, october 7th

to the sound of a phone call 

i’m suffocating

fright fills my lungs

i breathe in, breathe out

close my eyes 

but you’re not there 

when the blur clears 

where are you, i cry out in my mind

where are you? 

but daddy’s voice is grey and aunt’s face is sad 

as she holds the phone and looks at us,

and she blinks

too many times

too fast 

where are you? 

we stand in the fluorescent light, i feel my world spin

and crash

just like the cars 

on heineberg road 

my aunt looks at her phone, just like the girl in the car

behind you did    

but she is hoping for good news, 

what was the girl doing?
if i close my eyes and go back to that night 

the hallways are flush with colorful artwork, 

but they seem bleached as we leave

we pass into the darkness, aunt can cry now 

she doesn’t show, but i can hear 

i try not to think 

that this car

could change a life

as i sit in the dark.

for the first time in a long time, 

i find my brother’s hand

and we hold

we don’t hit

where are you? 

aunt tries to make us eat

but i can’t

not in this terrible time

aunt puts us to bed

to sleep, she says

but i can’t

where are you?

when i shut my eyes and the world goes dark 

i remember 

the darkness that followed

monday, october 7th 

you lay in bed, and you smile, but it is brittle 

i am only seven, but

i see the pain in your eyes

little do you know it will be everlasting. 

they are not the eyes i once knew 

where are you? 

no more noise, not even joyous ones 

i can’t laugh anyway

i take the bus to first grade now

and mrs. nancy 

knows not to look for my mother, 

waving at the door.

where are you? 

the boys and i eat dinner 

with dad 

you eat 

with your pain. 

where are you? 

what is it like 

for your mind to wage war against itself? 

for one moment

for one stupid girl 

to latch onto you forever? 

what is it like 

for the doctors

to shake their heads

and say,  

“this is your life now”?

what is it like 

to find forgiveness 

for someone i can’t forgive? 

in my mind, i remember back 

i am seven years old again 

we are in church but

i pray to the man in the white coat instead 

hoping 

against 

all

hope

that you’ll come back to me

completely

even though when i open my eyes

i know all too well 

eight years later

it was only just a wish

and i’ve never even seen a shooting star. 









 
  • Ingkeu-writer's blog
  • Sprout
  • Log in or register to post comments
  • Print Friendly, PDF & Email
Posted: 11.10.21
Ingkeu-writer's picture
About the Author: Ingkeu-writer
MSG / CONTACT
RECENT LOVES
Author has not loved anything.
RECENT COMMENTS
Author has not made any comments.

Other Posts

  • Bittersweet
    Crackling static memories fillA dusty room with sunny melancholy Read more
    in poem 0 Comments
  • To My Backyard Rink
    To my backyard rink All of those early mornings And late nights  Read more
    in poem 0 Comments

Discussion

Comments

  1. Stargirl
    Nov 11, 2021

    This is so sad and beautiful. Not gonna lie, I totally read this poem and cried the whole time. This is heartbreaking and if it happens to be true, I'm so very sorry.

    ( I think I made you up inside my head )

    • Log in or register to post comments
  1. amaryllis
    Nov 16, 2021

    "i find my brother’s hand

    and we hold

    we don’t hit"

    so many powerful lines, but this might be my favorite. and so echo was Stargirl said above, if this is true, I'm so sorry.

    • Log in or register to post comments
  • ABOUT
  • DONATE
  • PUBLICATIONS
  • SUBSCRIBE TO NEWSLETTER
  • JOIN/LOGIN
YWP is a creative, online community of teen writers and visual artists, ages 13-18. We're based in Burlington, VT, and we welcome young creators from anywhere!
Special thanks to The Kemmerer Family Foundation whose generous support made this new, improved website possible.
Website development and design by Refaktor Inc., Summit Creative Works, and YWP's Vivien Sorce, Lauren McCabe, Katherine Moran, and Susan Reid.

Young Writers Project | 47 Maple St., Suite 216 | Burlington, VT 05401
501(c)(3) nonprofit established in 2006
Contact: Susan Reid, Executive Director: [email protected]; (802) 324-9538