OPen

Lost and Found

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February 11, 2023
a cute baby in a walker
I grew up in China and I came to the states when I was 16. I spoke very little English at the time. As I was asking myself how poetry found me at this stage of my life. Why me? I ask. I often think back on the time when I didn’t know who I was (still don't), nor did I have the ability to communicate the confusion of not knowing. 

When you experience the loss of words

No I don’t just mean physically

Which is another whole story on its own

I mean mentally

Especially mentally

I could murmur and sob

Scream and jump

Sigh and lie down

But i was unable to form my reasons with the right words

Express feelings in complete sentences that could be understood 

Ask for help as the first syllable got stuck 

in my throat 

Am I pronouncing this right?

Is my accent showing?

What does this word mean again?

So the sorrow stayed

Stored in my body 

Each missing word at a time

I was too busy faking laughs

To jokes that I didn’t understand 

Putting on masks that felt the furthest from home 

To blend in

To hide behind

To survive 

I wanted to be invisible so i hummed along the crowd and let others’ words took power over mine

You can’t write 

You talked too bluntly

I wanted to be invisible so I changed my name and undress my accent

I am not even going to try to pronounce your name 

Says my college professor 

That’s okay, I go by Jade 

I wanted to be invisible so I bit down on my lips and lowered my head

Where are you from from?

What kind of Asians are you?

I went to Taiwan on a summer break

Andre Lorde says

Poetry is the way we give names to the nameless, so it can be thought

So our feelings can be expressed, shared and heard

Poetry cobble all the pieces of our darkness

the unknowns and the hideaways

Arms us with tools to create light 

From the dim corners of our hearts and furthest horizon of our hope and despair 

We hold the pieces up against the light

As proof that

We are alive

We are not alone in these beautiful yet dark feelings 

Words turned

Poetry turned

Understanding turned

Holding hands turned

Unclenching jars turned

Me and you turned

A breathe out

Poetry is the way we give names to the nameless, so it can be thought

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