Rising in the east,
we slowly wake up to a soft yellow hue
peaking into our bedroom.
Setting in the west,
the dynamic bursts of pink and purple
revitalize us after a long day.
The beauty of sunlight,
at every moment of the day,
is that it does not need our validation.
Whether we recognize the sun shine,
or see the colors change,
the sun continues to rise and set.
Day in and day out,
no matter what the season.
The simplicity of sunlight is its confidence.
Everyone around us has 24 hours.
Yet sometimes, I feel like I’m the only one.
Scaling towers to make the most of my time,
and squeeze in work to make a quick dime.
Everyone around us has 24 hours.
So why do I feel the need to be empowered?
To use my time and make a change.
If everyone around me has 24 hours,
the girl who cured cancer and the boy who runs track,
they must have superpowers.
But at the end of the day,
that’s not the case.
Everyone around us has 24 hours.
Finding a way to make yours count,
that’s what matters.
__________________________________________________________________
This poem is inspired by my panic to make the most of my time and the rush I’ve been in, which didn’t allow me to take new photographs. Ironic, yet fitting.
To my best friend. My love. My mother. My rock.
Everything happened so fast, I’m still in shock.
You are the strongest person I will ever know.
Now I hold on to our memories, but they seem so long ago.
Playing Candy Crush at midnight,
Teaching me to drive,
Watching Rema dance at Ignite,
You kept telling us “Live, don’t simply be alive.”
You were always right,
but I still liked to argue.
You said, “everything will be alright,”
I miss your advice.
You always put others before you,
never thought about it twice.
Now I hope you are finally at peace,
In your own paradise.
“I have cancer,” you said as a fact,
Yet you didn’t shed a single tear, you stayed intact.
Through all the treatments, the chemo, and pill,
You still smiled and had such a strong will.
You sacrificed everything for us.
You worked hard for us.
You hid back your tears from us.
But you were taken away from us.
Your beautiful smile,
Your quirky laugh,
Your ambition and drive,
I will always look up to you in awe.
You taught me to be adventurous and wild,
You were always the cool mom.
You taught me to be gentle and kind,
Determined and focused,
You said, “happiness is just a state of mind.”
I cry, I wish, I hope
that this is just a dream.
Because you, Rema, and I, we were always a team.
Now I’ll carry on your legacy.
Fulfill all your wishes.
I know you’re guiding me from above,
So I’ll be ambitious.
You lived, you loved, you laughed.
This I hope you see.
The only question I have for you is,
Are you proud of me?
Mommy you are my entire world,
You are as precious as your black pearl.
Every day I miss you more.
Signed…Your Little Girl.
I wrote this poem almost 4 years ago. However, it resurfaced recently through a conversation. Over the course of the semester, I have been posting poems that have been reflective of the environment around me. It felt right to post this one right now as I’ve been finding moments that remind me of my mom.
To your left,
a man with a briefcase
and slicked back hair.
His face is motionless,
as though captured in a photograph.
He keeps his head tucked down
and is lost in regret.
To your right,
a mother with a small child,
crying for care.
The mother’s eyes blink in exhaustion,
but the child commands her full attention.
Still, the mother carries unconditional love and gratitude,
for finally being able to hold a child of her own.
All of you cross the street
without acknowledging each other;
without realizing how different
your paths have been.
But somehow,
right now,
you all cross the street.
For the next ten seconds,
you will share your lives together.
And then,
you will never see them again.
What a magical effort of time,
to bring together people
in such small ways.
Loud voices, outspoken personalities.
The glimmering attraction of success all around us.
Seems as though there is only one
right path to take in this infinite world.
One right path for people to be impressed by me.
But is that what I want people to be?
Impressive should feel good, but it feels empty.
Impressive should foster change, but it falls short.
Impress. Inspire. Impressed. Inspired.
Ironic, how similar and interchangeably,
these words are used on the surface.
But how can people be inspired by someone
who follows the one set path to success.
How can people be inspired by someone
who stays in shallow waters and
does not explore uncontrollable waves.
I fall into the spotlight of success
and feel its withdrawals.
Impressive people fade away.
Inspiration leaves a legacy.
Summer green turns into
vibrant shades of autumn.
This transition happens,
whether I think about it or not.
Whether I want it to or not.
One morning I notice
my morning walk to class is crisp.
A brisk breeze is hitting my face
and leaves on the ground are
being brushed past my feet
as I walk by freshly carved pumpkins.
I realize I should have worn more layers.
People around me are bundled up
in their scarves and winter boots.
Something about this change feels cozy,
and I cannot help but smile.
I appreciate the beauty of impermanence.
A seasonal love, in a sense.
What a shame it would be,
if summer lasted forever.
