Stillness

Stillness feels like riding the hills of Fairfax city

After I’ve observed the break of dawn on my drive to school.

Stillness is the taste of the morning breeze,

The feeling of it kissing my skin,

as I turn the corner onto Roberts Road.

Stillness is the blanket of humidor that drove out the winter chill

In preparation for spring.

Stillness is the sound of rain,

Pattering against the mud of my backyard in the night,

Drops of water coalescing with dirt.

Stillness is the deep breath upon performing a controlled power-press

With a 60lb. bar,

The strength emerging in the crease of my triceps.

Stillness is talking to you on a Saturday night,

The sound of your exhale and the silence.

The seconds walking past us without hurry.

Stillness is the engagement of eye contact,

Waiting for a witty remark to further spur the conversation.

But the silence never bothered me

Because it is in that silence that I learned how to be perfectly still

Even among the rush of Fairfax city-life.

The stillness is the break of dawn,

Your brown eyes and the sunset.

It is the morning breeze and the humidity,

Showering the town in rain

So that the trees will glow healthy in the morning.

Let me rise for another Spring day,

When the vibrato of the winter hum

Has diminished,

And the birds tweet to the song of the new season.

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Familiarity

Familiarity is the jacket I wear even if it’s hot outside.

Familiarity is remembering where every pothole is on the streets of my hometown.

Familiarity is the white noise in the background, the golden yellow paint on my bedroom walls, the countless race bibs hung nicely near my calendar.

Familiarity convinces me that there’s no point in getting comfortable in other cities. Why walk around the campus of your university? You’ll be home in no time.

Familiarity is coming home at 9 o’clock on a Wednesday night, the feeling of pajamas against a shivering body,  the aroma of home-cooked food.

Familiarity says your second semester schedule should be more like that of the first,

that you should take the same routes home,

even if it’s less time-efficient.

But I wish I could unzip the jacket of familiarity,

bare my skin, despite the wind.

Give me time to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.

Wouldn’t discomfort soon morph itself into familiarity?

What are now unknown road signs are the signals that will soon lead me home.

Reclining on the couches of my university’s campus will eventually feel like hanging out in my bedroom on a Friday night,

Braless and weary from hours spent typing on my laptop.

But I want to feel free to get up at any time,

and handstand against my bed,

hang upside down in the staircase,

run around the house singing Lorde’s “400 Lux.”

I replay the same song over and over in my car,

to give myself the illusion,

that nothing is changing.

I can deal with new changes, I tell myself.

But the subconscious mind can’t keep its mouth shut

if I’ve been at school for eight hours,

and all I can think about is staring up at the same bedroom ceiling before going to sleep,

wearing the same pajamas,

hanging my clothes in the same parts of my closet.

But maybe soon I will peel away this jacket,

this attachment to familiarity,

though I know that I will undoubtedly return to my gym of seven years,

the bright yellow ‘Gold’s Gym’ sign luminescent in my mind’s eye.

I will continue my quest of morphing discomfort into comfort,

linger along the sidewalks of unfamiliar towns.

If I can just get my feet wet,

perhaps I wouldn’t mind if the water were cold.

The body eventually adjusts to the temperature.

Innocence is a Child

 

Innocence is a child.

She laughs at silly things,

And is easily mesmerized by stories.

She believes

That good exists in all people.

Her energy is limitless,

As she hangs upside-down in staircases,

And handstands up against the wall.

She tip-toes into the kitchen,

To find a late-night dessert.

Her laughter echoes

And her bubbliness is infectious.

Innocence is a child,

And that child is me.

 

I sprint down the stairs,

Strike a handstand on the second step,

And pause.

Feel the heartbeat echo against an old soul,

Which inspires adult-like conduct.

She is the voice of responsibility,

And reason.

Don’t forget to wear your seatbelt.

Make sure to arrive to class on time.

She emanates wisdom,

Serving as every friend’s therapist,

and motivational speaker.

She protests injustice,

And is determined to speak truth to power.

Wisdom is an old soul,

And that old soul is me.

 

 

 

Stronger than Mental Illness

brain

The heart speaks louder than the shaking voices of victims who didn’t know how to handle mental illness.

But even as your heart hammers against your chest,

Don’t be afraid to speak.

Surround yourself with supportive people.

Paint the town in wise words you’ve learned from your situation.

Sing the song of your triumph after the storm has passed.

Let the liberation of self-expression run through the flesh,

The very blood stream that connects to a healthy heart.

A beat that was once an unsettled qualm,

Is now a beautiful, steady rhythm

That feeds an honest self-awareness.

I repeat

Your health is a priority.

Repeat

Your health is a priority

Even before grades and schoolwork,

Nagging tasks and unfinished papers.

You are free to prioritize yourself,

Polish the best version of your personality.

You are not your disorder,

You are a living triumph,

A beautiful song that continues to play

Even after the drumbeat of your heart has grown weary.

You will wake up to another day

When you will expand your lungs to fill them with oxygen.

Tell me,

How amazing is this freedom?

The space

Between this inhale

And the next exhale

Is the greatest liberation I know.

The mind

And the heart

Are no longer weighed down by shackles.

Rather, they have grown stronger from having carried them for so long.

So parade in this wonderful freedom.

Beautiful green and blue veins ignite euphoria,

A liveliness once unknown.

Red blood traveling through the temples,

And eventually to the mind.

Tears of joy collect along your eyelid,

Tipping over the edge slowly.

You are free.

A living triumph,

A walking warrior,

Liberation personified.

healthy

 

 

Heartbeat

Keep beating

Inside my chest.

A steady rhythm when I’m running,

A gentle beat when I’m meditating.

Stay healthy

As you pump blood to green and blue veins.

That remind me

I am awake,

Breathing,

Living.

Whatever you do,

Protect yourself

From fear.

Just be the same soft, gentle beat

I feel during meditation.

Let this serenity forever be with me.

Can I perpetuate this calm,

This honest self-awareness?

Pose