When it Stings, Sing

Sometimes the right words are hard to find. 

It's not always easy to speak your mind.

Especially if you want those thoughts to be well received. 

There's always a chance the listener gets deceived.

And when I speak or when I write, but the same words are repeated...

Some might think that's superfluous and should be deleted. 

But if instead you sing,

the chorus is where you say the same thing. 

Over and over you express the same feeling

and you can ask, do you hear what I'm dealing

with. The ways that I'm reeling

The things I wanna stop concealing

The things I've wanted to start revealing

Sometimes I don't know how to say things with the right expressions,

whether it's the right words, facial cues, or inflections.

Sometimes I wish people could read my mind, 

good intentions is what they'd find.

I hope they don't think they have to read between my lines, 

I want only to be honest and genuine. 

So perhaps what I need is a song,

that's sung from the heart with a voice trying to be strong.

I'd let it all out - the good, the right, and the wrong

and then I'd be able to express what I've been meaning all along. 

Wishful Sinking*

A cute three-year old looked me in the eye

and said, "your eyes are weird"

I love who I am now, but it still stung

Then you came over, a relative of the little girl

to find out what she said

and she repeated, "her eyes are weird"

And you laughed at her innocent comment**

But I wish

you had said something to remind me my eyes are beautiful

you had said something to teach her my eyes are beautiful

I wish

"Oh, I think you're talking about Joyce"

My Korean American friend was apologetic as she said it 

a careful voice I have also borrowed in these sorts of situations

when someone mixes you up for another Asian American girl in the room

and then you will try to sweep away the obvious awkwardness of the moment

and discreetly hurl - as far away as you can - the pain of being mistaken

even though there were only 6 people total in the group

even though we had different hairstyles and stories

even though even though even though

and just like that, everyone moved on***

But I wish

someone had checked in on us later to see if we were doing okay

the one who misspoke & misremembered had taken time 1-on-1 to apologize

the host of the gathering had followed up with the one who'd publically hurt us and expressed to us that she had our backs

I wish

And I wish 

I could say all of these events only happened in my childhood

    as if microaggressions stop happening after you turn 18

And I wish

I could say that these events took place with strangers

    but they happened in the homes of people who say they love me

And I wish

I could say that this happened with people who don't profess a faith that compels them to love people deeply and radically - just as I have professed

    but I guess checking off a box that says Christian doesn't automatically teach you empathy, action, and how to actually live like the Good Samaritan 

And I wish

I wish I wish

How long will you ask me to keep wishing? 

How long will you watch and remain silent?

As I fall down - and try by myself - to keep standing up again

Again

Again

Notes from the Author:

*I originally wanted to name this something more provocative. You can personally ask me about it if you're a curious one. :)

**When the child said this to me, I was honestly so shocked I think it showed a little on my face. I know children are innocent, and that they can be shaped by adults they trust, so in my response, I wanted to model to this little one what self-acceptance and self-love looks like. There was really no context to her statement about my eyes, as we were just playing with toys. I looked back at her playfully and said, "I think they're beautiful!" to which she said again "your eyes look weird". I think she would have kept saying it if the relative didn't come over. Unfortunately, the relative didn't say anything and that definitely stung even more. A few months later, I was interacting with this same child and she was talking about her own eyes being a different color from her siblings who all had the same eye color. It was a memorable conversation for me, because we talked about how all of the eyes were beautiful, how they were all just different. Not better, not worse, just different AND beautiful.

***In this situation, we had all just met and given self-introductions maybe 10 minutes prior. I totally understand that mix-ups happen and everyone had shifted to sit in different places in the room since the ice breakers happened. This kind of mix-up hurts so much, because it is a reminder that "you are just another *insert group identifier name* - I don't have the mental capacity to remember you as your own unique individual". The crazy thing is that it seems like it doesn't matter how small the group is, how few people total that require remembering on a team, or even how long you've been involved in that group, it will still happen.  

I want to note that I have had to take time again and again to process these events. Not necessarily by choice, but just because the memory will pop up and I'll be forced to address it again. Random moments might remind me of when these things happened and then connect to other microaggressions I experienced when I was younger. While I might want to bury these memories forever, it often is not possible. It would be dishonest of me to say that the microaggressions I have experienced don't bother me anymore. They will always bother me, because they didn't unfold in the way I wished for. However, they don't haunt me like a nightmare, but more like something I can recognize has happened, may likely happen again, and move forward knowing I can name my own worth in the eyes of Our God - in a world that will always fail to. I can simultaneously be disappointed in people for not being better advocates and love them for the way that they do overflow kindness to my life. There's no "either or", it's "both and". 

Psalm 617

I will not ask You, "why?"
when things do not make sense
or go as I hoped.

But I will ask You
to never leave my side,
to Hold me during the tears,
to Guide me through the sojourn.

That
is all I ask.

Syncing Ship

The more
that you tell me you love me
the less
that I can bring myself to tell you it back

I realized
that though we think in sync often
we do not
match in one way which matters most

I hate
the pain produced in me
when you
speak uninhibited

I am wearied
by your words when you are tired, annoyed, impatient
each time
you expect me to excavate your expression

You are happy
to learn and to grow with me
I am disappointed
to find this flippant flaw in you

You will
unknowingly and unintentionally
hurt me
again and again and again

I love
when you tell me you love me
but I
cannot tell you it back, right now

Things I Never Felt

The flutters of the heart
like butterfly wings in flight
traveling from one bloom to the next
stopping momentarily
to savor each second
whispering gently I am blessed

The longings of the heart
like the waves on the constant coastline
coming in to hug the edge of the land
with a rush
as I move to high tide
exclaiming giddily I love you

The aches of the heart
like the sting of a most vicious wasp
its venom wavering in and out
as shame spreads
when I've let you down
screaming emptily I am sorry

These are the things I never felt
until I was with you

The Well

A went to a panel on wellness
and they didn't mention God
How did they define what's well and good?
What did they applaud?

Apparently
activity
achievement by humanity
productivity
profitability
propensity to defy gravity

Bombarded with tasks
Emptied with baths
Pushed to not stop
Pulled to not fraught

Filled with questions:
What do I want?
To meal prep?
To treat mah self?
To eat out with friends?
To netflix & binge?

Their answers to self care
made me fully aware
that Solomon was right
in Ecclessiastes he did write
"I applied my heart
to know wisdom and
to know madness and folly.
I perceived that this also is but
a striving after wind."

And I?
I want only to be
Stilled

------------------------------------------
"Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after wind."
-Ecclesiastes 4:6

A Conversation with Myself

Leave this cit/adel
     where relying on circumstances
     is like a massive wall
     guarding a fortress of fear

Run away from this hom/icide
     murdered is my good intention,
     slain is someone's trust,
     dead are dreams and amendments

Go back to famil/iarizing myself
     with Wisdom's face,
     with God's grace,
     with Kingdom vision on which my worldview I base

Let It Be

Let out
     like streams that flow
     like gates that have flown
               wide open
     like children on a snow
               day
     like childlike faith full grown

Let down
     as unfulfilled expectation
     as repeated rejection
     as increased introspection
               given the greatest glimmers go
               out

Let go
     of my shiny dreams
     of my shaky foundation
     of my short sight
     of my small faith

The Green One

I will myself to stop, to finally stop running. I stop because I've reached my destination, not a final destination. Just something to reach for in this moment: the market.
             I look down at my choices. There's quite a fine array. As a creature of habit, I always go for the same ones. But not today. Today I pick the one that I've always ignored, abandoned, kept a safe distance from. I pick the green one. To match my mood.
             I have what I came for. So I pay. I leave. I can't have it yet though. I still have to wait, like I always do, like I'm used to. The bag is heavy in my hand on the walk back. Everything seems heavy.
             I make it home, just a temporary home. I wonder now if I really have an actual home or if it's just a house. There's a difference, I know.
             I clean as soon as I'm in the room. I tidy things to make them look presentable. I go through the motions so that I can keep my mind off of things, things that I'd like to run away from, things that I am not accustomed to, things that feel heavy, things that make me doubt the existence of home. Things that are painful in a way that I cannot really explain.
             Until I take a bite, and the flavors come rushing in. A lot stronger than what I expected. What I taste is sour, like things that have gone bad. What I taste is crisp, like the way porcelain must feel before it knows it is going to hit the ground and shatter into pieces. What I taste is sharp and acidic, and there is nothing else so cutting to the senses. What I taste is the perfect apple.
           

The Ebb

There's an ebb and flow.
I don't know where to go.

It takes me to and fro.
To places I don't know.
And places of familiarity.

Face to face with fear,
And feelings I cannot bear.

So I run
To where I was from
A time of malign
Paradigm

But a place
I found grace

And they keep reminding me
Who I was made to be

Free

Down

Now this is going to sound cliche - actually, as much as it can possibly get - and it's going to sound like my mom's opposite way of speaking - where she calls a person's actions amazing, when she really means ridiculous, but it's amazing to think that at one point we actually knew each other well. It's hard to believe that there was a time when we could both see potential for a lasting friendship.
             It began like perfection; everything clicked right in place.  And in just a short time, you really did change my life, greatly. Who I am today, I owe much to you, and I'm grateful. But there seemed to be a sudden turn of events, because slowly, everything faded away. But I wasn't expecting it to all come down down down to this. Because it seems that now, we're just a couple, of strangers again.
             I wish I could explain what happened and how and why, but then I would be able to explain everything, from the hopeful beginnings to the hopeless endings. And I can't even begin to describe how these things changed before my eyes and beyond what my mind ever expected.
             I wish I could say we never even were friends, because that's exactly how it feels right now, but I can't, because my life today, changed extraordinarily, is direct proof that at one moment in eternity, you cared about me and touched my soul. I won't say goodbye to my memories, but it's about time I officially said my goodbyes to you. I hope you find who you were meant to be, like you did for me.

Written for www.writersnotfighters.tumblr.com

Nightmares under the Nightsky

I tried to back away, farther and farther, but it was no use. The overwhelming sounds grew louder and louder, drew nearer and nearer, until all I could think about was the loud crash that would sound when the great noise caught up to me to seal my imminent fate. And I gave up, a cry of fear, but I wasn’t even sure if I had made a sound at all, for there was no silence to break, only deafening noises that drowned out everything I had learned to say.
             And when I couldn’t speak, and when I thought I could no longer hear, a voice broke the chaos. Not a whisper, like mine, but a voice that was strong, reverberating, and articulate. And He said, “Child, wake up. Your nightmares are only as strong as your spirit is weak. My son already died to rescue you from the thief who wants to steal, kill, and destroy your heart, but I have already taken up your heart to give you life, and I will protect you from harm. You, young and beautiful one, are now flawless in my eyes. You are the crown of my creation and I just want to love and protect you, if only you will allow me. Fear no more, child. One day you will be reunited with me for eternity.”
             I opened my eyes and saw above me a blanket of stars, created by my Father. And below me the surface of the boat, and under that, an expanse of swaying water, created by my Father. And for the first time, I cried, tears of joy, that flowed into the sea. And the surface of the sea gently caught every shining star in its reflection, like a mirror of my Father’s beautiful love.

Written for www.writersnotfighters.tumblr.com

Just Friends

I think
you misunderstood
our relationship.

Maybe
you thought
I was getting over you.

But
what if
I was just never into you?

I'm so
sorry for
disappointing you.

Oh Sweet Contrast

There's nothing worse

There's nothing better

than realizing

than discovering

the sinking truth

the exhilarating reality

that he has forgotten about you,

that he is thinking about you,

never really did care,

always really did cherish,

never noticed you.

always will love you.

Soul Deep

"You're so awkward."
             I used to hear that phrase, a lot. But that was years ago, three winters ago to be specific. Back when I wasn't comfortable at school, at home, at church, nor in my own skin. Awkwardness defined me, or at least that's what I was taught to think. I know my friends said it jokingly and the others around me said it through their actions, but to me it seemed to hold a certain truth. And that "truth" of awkwardness settled deep in the chambers of my heart. 
             But now, two summers passed, I can say with certainty that I've changed, I've discovered the essence of confidence. I've become selfless for the selfish, discovering that in helping others I in turn help myself. Above all, I don't want anyone else to believe the lie I believed. Who I truly am and who I was made to be is to use my past pain to help other's present pain.
            I believed in the depths of my heart that awkward was what defined me. When all this time, that lie was only trying to cover the truth that I have a lot of love to share with people. And finally, I have shared that love genuinely, wholeheartedly, without holding back. Yet, still after months of silence, it comes back.
             "You're so awkward."
             And it's hard, it really is. I can't keep ignoring the lies. That little phrase - so distant, yet so familiar - flutters restlessly in my heart and still cuts soul deep.

Corruption

is a sand castle
being disintegrated
one miniscule grain of
sparkling sand
at a time.

It is a small speckled pebble
on a hillside
at the verge
of falling over the edge
and plunging straight down.

It is a child
once innocent and pure
with a desire to tell his first white lie
to get rid of the sinking weight
of cookies in his stomach.

It is inevitably nearing,
simply a sad sight to see.
Something once beautiful -
now broken -
leaving us empty and silent.

Let Down

Accident this, unfortunate coincidence that.
I move on along, you just stay put.
Pulling the strings, pushing me away.
One step forward, and another one back.
Getting nowhere, opposites don't attract.

Plans fall apart,
everything goes wrong.
Petty excuses formulate, 
nothing is ever right.

At the end of the day,
I'm not sure what you value,
anymore.

And frankly, I'm tired of it.
Cause when push comes to shove,
you're always just a let down.

Forgotten & Forlorn

He forgot who I was,
lost interest, losing interest.
A gap in the savings that I'd poured into long ago.

And awkward
is what I'm left to make out of it.
An awfully awkward ending
to a perfectly promising beginning.

That spark of hope,
that fuse of potential
was slowly stifled out.
Into this.

One Trip from Falling

When you've got everything, it feels like there's nothing to lose. Because in the moment, it's easy to forget how elementarily simple it becomes to lose everything you once had. 

And I wish I had that principle, wrapped around in my head, to keep me from this demise.
But now I'm, one small mistake, one trip on the slightest pebble, away from falling. Falling all the way down.
And everything I once had seems like nothing, worthless. Because when one stitch fell out, the rest came unraveling apart.

Then, at the end of the tunnel, I realize that all along I had everything I needed, more than enough. But the memories are in the past now, the passed. Perpetually fleeting and flitting away from reality.

Insomniac

Lying and waiting, for a snippet of sleep, is slow and painful.
At first it is quite peaceful, being under layers of gentle cotton.
But soon enough, it is anything but comfortable.
Wishing for rest, all I experience is restlessness.
Squirming and thrashing, hoping to position myself and stay one way until morning.
The impatient movements break the silence - that quiet is at first sweet, but now agonizing.
I revert to ancient methods, perhaps counting sheep.
But there are no sheep in my blank blurry visualizations, only darkness.
The black night is all around me, bringing despair and blocking out any glimmer of light and life.
Initially, the dark was still, unmoving, a presence. But now it blends and swirls, spreading even farther toward infinite distances, breaking down imaginary walls, smothering all things.
Until, I am falling. Spiraling down in a deep hole, disappearing, my shrieks hollow, in nothingness.
By now I can no longer differentiate my reality from my dreams.
I do not know where I am. But I do know something, I am content, asleep.