I
A new year
the same resolutions
haunting our brains
Why is everyone waiting for a new year in order to start?
— the time is now
II
The typical love poems recite
imagery that compares you to the lovely things of the world.
But also
how your beauty simply does not compare.
The irony of these poems
leaves them all to be the same.
III
This was supposed to be a beautiful start
to a new decade —
yet, it’s only month three, and we are suffering another unexplainable tragedy.
We were promised blessings instead of empty spaces,
just wanting to be consumed.
We were promised new beginnings,
where we were supposed to make art and live freely,
instead of being stuck in quarantine.
We took everything for granted:
blue skies, restless nights,
gatherings with loved ones.
It took a virus for us to realize
that we are nothing.
I do not understand
how school shootings and poverty aren’t treated
with equal importance.
We are left with nothing but to wish for normalization
— in times like these
IV
We keep fighting
about the damages we have done.
Burning sides, losing sight, not working together as one.
Our creations have led to prideful things:
thinking that we are superior,
competing against each other.
We have forgotten to care about the millions of acres of land.
There’s more to life than the advancements we thought we had.
Our thoughts are separate, but our roots are intertwined.
Connections should be prioritized.
We should be fighting about happier times.
V
How to cope:
– Find a quiet place to reflect about the horrid pages of our story. Open a window, or go outside and breathe all the air that might be missing from your lungs, and let it offer you a home.
– Write, draw, play music: Do something that can help you let out emotions or find ones that you didn’t know you had.
– The thoughts in your head may seem messier than they have ever been. They will eventually find their places; express them deliberately.
– Find the things in your life that you can be grateful for; they could be small things, but they are things someone might not have.
VI
Summertime sunshine
stuck inside
no place to run or hide
from our new normality
VII
I make no apologies for growing out of things and people.
I make no apologies for craving good change.
I move at my pace.
VIII
Make sure to tell the world
that I can still hear the bells ring from the Campanile,
and I am in distress.
The skies have always made me
come to life
with their vibrant blue color,
marking the spirit of the campus
as golden
through the beautiful shimmering lights.
Missing the thousands of students
shouting in celebration
for the No. 1 public institution in the world.
I have been waiting for this
August getaway
for months on end.
I’ve never needed to feel more at peace.
IX
The summer light has whisked away into the dark
although it was never really here at all.
The air seems colder than before
with leaves swaying in the autumn wind,
in the pouring rain,
and light jazz spinning on vinyl.
Here’s to the little moments.
X
It’s 2 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon,
the cool air wanders within my cracked window,
and I am feeling numb.
I’ve been up all night
with my stomach plummeting and head resting on the wall.
It’s almost like I’m dreaming
about a projected life outside these walls.
My sanity is diminishing
through every single thought.
I badly want to escape from
this hollow mind
and venture outside the constricted walls
that lie within me.
I want to throw it all away
and run into a meadow
where dreams can stay alive,
and I am finally free.
XI
We have been waiting
for this month
for four years now.
Our country
rests in the hands
of our communities.
We need to represent
every person
despite the pigment of their skin
or their ample backgrounds.
The world has been in chaos
for quite some time now.
This is the time to
be loud,
to stand up for
morality
and equality.
This is the time
to roar.
XII
These lights
are wonderful and bright.
They remind me of the
little girl who would run around
in wanderlust
to celebrate the
gathering
of her favorite stars.
Dancing and shining
as if the dark didn’t
hide them away
this year.
Those traditions of
sharing stories and love
fill her heart,
give her hope
that the light will shine on its own.