[Poetry] Bridge

I’m standing on one side
Of a deep cavern with jagged spikes
While my dreams wait patiently on the other side
For me to build a bridge.

But I have no tools,
All I have are societal pressures
And familial expectations
Clawing at me from behind
Like nails on the chalkboard of my mind
Threatening to push me over the edge,

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[Poetry] Asian-American

When I was a child, being Asian-American meant breaking wooden chopsticks over a noodle lunchbox, sunny yellow dresses to bring out the sunny yellow of my skin, and laughing with my colorful classmates because we didn’t know yet we were different.

When I grew older, being Asian-American meant seeing for the first time my father’s oil-stained hands from days of toil, and my mother’s quiet strength as she built a home in the middle of a strange language.Read More »