Tag: poetry

waves: blacklight

smitty 2 Comments
photo cred: me. in my apartment with my partner.

{trigger warning: childhood illness}

this whole year has brought about many hours of reflection for me and my life. one thing i’ve been thinking about a lot and trying to process is my experience as a cancer survivor. i was diagnosed with stage 4 hodgkin’s lymphoma at 16 years old (my junior year of high school). while i’m in remission now, the trauma i have tied to that experience is something that comes up again and again — especially during something as stressful as a global pandemic. the precautions i take to protect myself and others from the virus (like wearing masks, washing my hands often, disinfecting everything i come in contact with) feels eerily similar to the precautions i had to take while protecting myself from infections while being treated with chemotherapy and radiation.

i don’t talk much about my experiences, and part of the reason for that is because, well, it isn’t pretty. having cancer, being treated for it, fearing that it will come back, and having a deadly virus going around that only intensifies my anxiety isn’t something i can talk about in a few minutes or hours and be done with. i think about it all the time. and i take the pandemic very seriously mostly because of my fears.

i just wanted to let anyone who is struggling with processing or navigating this pandemic know that they are not alone, and things REALLY suck at the moment and it’s okay to acknowledge that. it’s okay to not be okay, and it’s okay to fear the uncertain future ahead of all of us. it’s okay to talk through your feelings with people you love andcare about, including yourself. this poem, ‘blacklight’, is one of my many attempts to do so. fun fact: this is a contrapuntal poem, which means that it can be read in at least two different ways 😉

~~~~~~

 

that moment when you look                                                                            your eyes don’t adjust to the darkness

        it’s just dark                                                                                                             and thick wet black

        and i tell everyone i know it’s just my shadow                                          it’s just the back of the throat, i say

        and they believe me                                                                                           and no one asks further questions

        but i’ve been trying to figure out,                                                                                  like,

 

 

how do i come to terms with the tumors growing in my body?

how long have they been there?

was there a such thing as light before the universe?

did darkness come from a wounded womb?

has anyone found its keyholed belly?

 

blacklight 

 

What

Mattie Grace Levy Leave a comment

Is the name you give to the tapeworm 

Nibbling away 

Keeping your stomach empty 

Something that to which your brain

Can’t help but wander

It made someone lace opioids 

Into their blood vessels 

So that their tangled veins force them to sleep 

For their mind to go to quiet 

Places 

That mingle

Regret with dreams. 

 

The Poetry Snapshot: Navigating to Nowhere

nehaallathur Leave a comment

Welcome to the nights of the beautifully broken.

Driving up north in Michigan

We start to head down this unraveling midnight road,
and music slips through every word unspoken.
You begin to navigate us to nowhere.

When I cannot fall asleep at night,
I fall apart instead.
I look out the window and try to convince myself,
I know what’s coming ahead.
These silent roads are all intertwined,
and you continue to navigate us to nowhere.

Like a deer in headlights, the conversation changes.
This dynamic is starting to reach new stages,
and I don’t want to be on different pages.
But then you accurately navigate us to nowhere.

We eventually circle back without a hurry.
But this drive has gone by in the blink of an eye,
and now looking back, it’s starting to seem blurry.
So again, can you navigate us to nowhere?

waves: the intro

smitty Leave a comment
photo cred: my phone, accidentally, while i was at a party summer 2019.

 

as my first blog post, i just wanted to say hi. i’m excited to see what i’ll do here. while we’re all tryna navigate this chaotic world, i want this to be a place for me — and hopefully, you reading this — to breathe. i was looking at the first couple lines of this poem on an old google doc, and thought i’d revisit it as a retrospective of my feelings about passion. sometimes, i feel so low that it’s hard for me to feel passionate about the things i know i want to accomplish in my life… and this year hasn’t been very helpful in picking up my mood. as a black trans person, i can say from first-hand experience that the world isn’t always so kind. but, there are moments (like, this poem i’m sharing) where i am able to say, “here i am. and that’s enough.”  so, i hope you like it, and, welcome to my blog.

~~~~~~

sometimes, i forget my body can take these torches 

of veins and light these pipelines of blood.

 

sometimes, i forget that a chest of living wishes 

finds home under my tongue

and that memories can dissolve into me like sugar there. 

 

sometimes, i forget that my organs are not made

of drying sand or the wind of a thousand last breaths,

but of flesh: warm, bare, and waiting 

 

for me to find the things that make me believe

i am living.

 

red’s the color of blood

 

 

 

Old Thoughts on My Body

Mattie Grace Levy 2 Comments

From the rigid 

Rough beige, brown 

Of ripped nails on stubbed toes

 

Ashy feet on rugged heels

Using a finger a shade lighter than my face

I trace the line of my legs.

 

With feet that tap on, or offbeat 

That jump to reach 

That step closer to embrace.

 

I move up to my hips 

Hidden, or accentuated in tight jeans 

That cover the dark skin on my knees. 

 

I’ve had hands encircle them 

Lick them and look at them 

With like, love, or disdain.

 

I’ve moved them in vain 

In ways that make me feel sexy or 

Make people laugh. 

 

I’ve seen them in the mirror 

And how they fit or don’t fit 

With my breasts 

 

That I pushed out to look bigger 

Or suffocated to fit in 

Clothes that don’t fit.

 

I’ve rubbed my skin

As if the color was a stain 

Traced it to map where it came from 

Compared it to that of my loved ones.

 

My arms move up to feel my face 

Where I washed away dirt,

Popped pimples, and hated 

How instead of burning, 

It just blackens with the sun. 

 

 

 

 

Insta: @mattie_tvc15

The Poetry Snapshot: A Modern Love Story

nehaallathur Leave a comment

You can feel the midnight rush on her streets
like a constant pulse running through this city.
Everyone that passes by carries a different story.
Even her forgotten corners have their own sense of glory.
But they’re all connected by their love for her.
The kind of love you have when your role model watches you perform;
a tender love of appreciation and intimidation.

She never waits for anyone;
you either learn to run at her pace or you get left behind.
Her sidewalks force children to quickly grow up,
yet she can give you a reason to feel forever young.

She stands as the strongest pedestal for light;
in morning sunrises and evening horizons.
The minute you arrive you never want to leave,
because despite all the lonely dances,
she’ll always have you entranced.

New York City, New York