Journey
I emerge from the mud
Caked in past indiscretions
Mistakes weighing me down
I attempt to shake it off
And decide I’d never be able to
Reduce the heavy load
I decide to cry until I’m whole
Hoping not to drown in tears
Unable to cleanse my past
I praise the rain that comes but
It’s cold, dark, and unrelenting
Not the salvation I prayed for
When I think I may drown
The sun comes and warms me
I look back at the faded footprints
And marvel how far I’ve traveled
The old path is almost gone
The rotted breadcrumbs I left
To find my way back home
Are washed away and I must
Forge a new path to happiness
The Collector
We can collect treasures
Even coveting wounds
That aren’t even ours
Treasures proudly displayed
Spotlight shining on them
Repurposed into excuses
You can use not to succeed
After years, they collect dust
Graying, covered with cobwebs
Too tired to clean the artifacts
Scrambling to recoup loss
But what we can’t gather
Into our hungry arms is time
***
Yong Takahashi won the Chattahoochee Valley Writers National Short Story Contest and the Writer’s Digest’s Write It Your Way Contest. She was a finalist in The Restless Books Prize for New Immigrant Writing, Southern Fried Karma Novel Contest, Gemini Magazine Short Story Contest, and Georgia Writers Association Flash Fiction Contest. She was awarded Best Pitch at the Atlanta Writers Club Conference. Her collection of short stories will be published in 2020. To learn more about Yong, visit: yctwriter.com
I appreciate Ms. Takahashi’s poetry on many levels. I took the liberty of paraphrasing much of “The Journey” and limited it to one interpretation. Thank you for your work.
Newborn
I emerge from the womb
Covered in amniotic fluid
The continuation of a long line of royalty
No mistakes, only the promise that he’ll always be with me.
Synapses firing, awareness just around the corner
I cry because I’m not whole.
Bright light, cold, hunger
Waiting, waiting, waiting…
At last it comes. A cover for my eyes, the warm body of mother, the nourishing milk.
All is necessary, but not enough.
It isn’t complete till I see her eyes looking at me.
Telling me she loves me.
Then I can begin my journey.
The most incredible and thoughtful poems.
So happy that you enjoyed them, Don! Thanks for stopping by and telling us your thoughts.