The rain asks me what my favorite poem is. I stand on the back porch, a landslide of mud in my wake. “What gets you through a crisis? What stills your ship on rocky waters? What holds you as you fall apart, break, turn to shambles? What is it?” He licks his lips and saysContinue reading “A Conversation With the Rain”
Category Archives: Writing
(Masala) Chai
On Reclaiming the Voice (and Spice) of the Indian Collective I remember being eight years old, and eating my lunch under the table because I was embarrassed about the healthy Indian meal my mother had cooked for me. Despite not being tangibly othered, I had internalized a narrative about the food of my culture thatContinue reading “(Masala) Chai”
It’s my 19th birthday…
It’s my nineteenth birthday and I’m thinking about how I’ve never kissed a boy, or gotten drunk, or high—which is something that is normalized, but something I have no interest in. My sister says I need to “live a little more” but I wonder why we define living by the breadth of our experiences, insteadContinue reading “It’s my 19th birthday…”
I walked out at 6:50 am and…
Everything was closed. Except this one coffee shop Scanned the menu for the cheapest most bitter Thing I could find “Macchiato” The word was out of my lips before I could think. $4.36 The barista made fun of me for my order I think She was looking for a middle aged white man Did aContinue reading “I walked out at 6:50 am and…”
The Sage Arrives Without Leaving:
The sage arrives without leaving:His feet carve tiny divots into the earthHis muscles ripple like a riverAnd his arms and legs are smooth and sturdyLike a banyan tree.He tells me stories with closed eyes and unmoving lipsWhy am I here? I ask him. He answers with silence. The sage arrives without leavingI exhume him fromContinue reading “The Sage Arrives Without Leaving:”
before i could remember
part 2 ~nine~ You watched yourself bleed, red blossoming against a manilla pillow. Your teacher walked you to the nurse’s office, where you cried tears of humiliation. Am I dying? You asked yourself. Am I dying? ~ten~ The year your grandfather passed away. ~eleven~ The year you thought you would receive your Hogwarts letterContinue reading “before i could remember”
before i could remember
part 1 ~nothing~ Something even the Greeks couldn’t understand. The pulsing of my mother’s womb—turbid and hollow; slick like the sound of a pallet struck against a gong. Empty. Pristine. It was like coming out of a vacuum where the white silence that cloaked you in the womb was drowned out by the obtrusive somethingness,Continue reading “before i could remember”
coffee for a dreamer
I went for a walk today; sought out the well-rounded roast accentuated with notes of blackberry, dark chocolate, and other flavors that were advertised proudly on the side of the canister. I hunted the generous cascade of half n half, or better yet, a sweetened creamer to soften the earthy flavors of my morning beverage.Continue reading “coffee for a dreamer”
The Writer’s Struggle
I think that most writers can attest to the fact that the act of sitting down to write is no easy feat. On one hand, there is immense joy in creating something beautiful, and on the other, you are plagued with endless internal criticism and self-doubt. What if my writing is not good enough? WhatContinue reading “The Writer’s Struggle”
Let Me Trace Your Heart
Let me trace your heartWith fingers that do not shakeI know your soul is fragileBut I promise it won’t break.Let me see your woundsLay them open and lay them bare…It’s been so long since poetry Has flowed from these lipsLet me share…Show me your ocean eyesAnd if they spiral or shatter like glassI’ll beg youContinue reading “Let Me Trace Your Heart”
Spilled Ink 