“Yes! YES! YES!” I held up the letter to my mom. “I got accepted into NYU as a counselling and psychology major!”

“Counselling?” Dad raised his eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you have shot a little higher? You have the best grades in your school, for heaven’s sake.”

“Dad, this is what I want to do. To talk to people like me. People who have been through a lot.”

Dad rolled his eyes. “Your life hasn’t been hard. All of your conflicts worked themselves out.”

“Well, what if I wanted to help others work their conflicts out? Would that be such a bad idea?”

I sighed and stomped to my room, closing the door.

“He has a point, dear,” Mom told Dad when I left. “I mean, smart as he is, he couldn’t be a doctor or a surgeon or work on computers like you wanted him too. He has eye problems, and you need to recognize that.”

Dad grunted.

Mom lowered her voice. “Why can’t you just accept our son for who he is?”

I sunk down to the floor and held my head in my hands. Was Dad the one pulling the strings all along?

--

Ryan got into NYU also, as a Computer Science major. It was as if we had our whole lives planned out.

“We need a quote to put in the yearbook,” he commented to me.

“What?”

“I dunno. Some type of statement. Senior quotes or something.”

“Geez, it seems like I have all of these ideas until people ask me to come up with something,” I said. We were laying in the park, looking up at the stars. It was a warm night in March.

“Can you seriously believe this is happening?” Ryan turned his head to look at me.

“What?”

“All of this, man. We’re growing up.”

He turned his head back to look at the stars.

“I remember the first time I saw the moon,” I said. “Back in 9th grade. I just sat on the porch, staring up at the expanse. I couldn’t get enough of it. I kept thinking of everything I’d missed out on, back before the surgery.”

“You didn’t miss out on anything,” Ryan said. “It was everyone else who was missing out.”

I sat up, turning my head.

“I mean, before you got the surgery, all you knew is darkness… and when you saw the light, it was amazing.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Me, I’ve always known the light. But I never really appreciated it as much as you did. I never loved the stars, or the moon, or the sky, or anything as much as you did. That’s what I think I love most about you. The way you see things.”

There was a gaping silence, but it wasn’t awkward this time.

“I made valedictorian,” I said.

“What? Over me? No fair.” He punched my arm. “I didn’t know I was dating an intellectual.”

I laughed. “Good thing I already have a speech for it.”

“Oooo, a speech?”

“It’s nothing. Just something I wrote back in 11th grade and I’ve been tweaking it since.”

--

“Valedictorian? That’s great!” Mom hugged me.

Dad grunted, took another sip of his coffee. “Good job, son.”

I was really nervous for it, to the point where I had to ask Derek for tips.

“Wait… my genius brother is asking me for advice?”

I laughed. “Don’t flatter me.”

“Okay,” he sat up in his chair diplomatically. “So what I usually do is close my eyes, and take a deep breath.”

I did.

“Some people say it’s a good thing to picture the audience in their underwear, but it never worked for me. So what I do is imagine they’re not there. Or, like pretend only the people I like or only the people I know are there. I single out a few people, and give my speech to them.”

I smiled. I knew who I was going to single out.

--

“You’ve got all the right clothes? The right robes? The right hat?” Mom was more antsy than usual.

“Mom, I got this,” I said, smiling. She nodded, but still fidgeted.

My hands had been shaking all morning, and she recommended eating a banana. “I hear they stop the shaking.”

“Mom, you’re more worried than I am. I’ll be fine.” I never had a taste for bananas anyways.

Derek was talking a mile-a-minute in the car, as if I was going to leave as soon as I graduated.

“Tone it down, little bro. I still have a summer left with you.” I tried assuring him, but he still pouted.

“Well, see you from onstage,” I said, wishing I’d eaten that banana. I was shaking like crazy now.

Ryan met me on our way to be seated. “I’m excited to hear your speech,” he said. “I better be in it.”

“Don’t worry. You are.”

As I approached the podium, I thought of my past. All the people that had touched me. My grandmother, with her hands on my shoulders, was guiding me now. I was holding baby Derek in my arms. Daria cheered me on. My mom rocked me to sleep.

As I looked at all those people, that sea of faces, I singled one face out. He sat in the middle of the crowd, leaning forward in his chair. I guess he was always the one I needed to talk to.

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.

“This speech is for you, Dad.” I closed my eyes again, feeling blind. I had to do this with my eyes closed; his red face swam in my corneas. I was going to say this as how I was for the first 15 years of my life, something I could never forget.

Since you first adopted me, I was always rejected

You were cold, I was warm, you had always reflected

All the hate, all the fear, I stuffed my feelings inside

When you were there, you didn’t care as you shoved me aside

I was blind, yes, but I saw even before the surgery

Who I really was, who you didn’t want me to be

Conversion camp was hell, I lied my way through

And coming back, I always watched it leading to you

There's someone I need to mention, someone I need to adress

He's been standing here with me through all of this stress

He was never you, Dad. He loved and encouraged me,

His name is Ryan Ocampo; and my friends, Lamar Brown and James Freed.

I tried to change who I was, change who I’m meant to be

I was broken and rejected, but now I’m free

After all these months of fear, I can finally say

If you love me, you’ll accept me as who I am… gay.

There was a collective gasp from the audience, and I spent one more blissful moment with my eyes closed. I felt my grandmother with me all over again, my heart racing… I opened my eyes again to the beautiful light and all the faces of the people. I’m not blind anymore.

“Your heart never lies,” she said to me in my head. “This is who you are, Aalam. David. And I love you.”

your

insinuating words

slither

beneath my skin

and gobble

up

my sanity

i want

to scream 

but

suffocation

is not 

conducive 

to vocalization

so

i lie silent

and allow

you to take

what you want

since

that's

my purpose

as a female

milk

and honey

are sweet

and delicious

but 

too

much

together

is nauseating

especially

when it slides

on my

skin

like your hands

grope at my feminity

so 

  stop

        it

             now

                    please

*Inspired by the book "milk and honey" which I highly recommend you read

Ms. Fared loved my paper. She said it brought her to tears, it was so powerful. I don’t get how words can move people to tears, but at the same time I do. My words remind me of my past, which makes me feel stale feelings again. Reminds me of who I was.

The second half of Junior year was basically just preparation for Senior year. I took driver’s ed again, and failed it again. I went to the doctor and was told I might never be able to drive, due to my late reaction times and my failure to see clearly 100% of the time. My vision had a tendency to blur, but I always just tolerated it because crappy vision is better than no vision at all.

Mom told me not to stress out about the not being able to drive thing. It’s amazing that I could even halfway function as a normal human being, so I should have been grateful for what I had.

Then there were the college applications.

I didn’t want to even think about colleges until senior year, but we were bombarded with letters starting January. A bunch of colleges were dying to have me.

James got no letters.

Summer was great. I was given the freedom to do a lot more things; I even got a job at the local PetSmart. All the dogs seemed to love me, for some reason. Probably because I used to be blind. Could they tell?

I’d come home and Derek would sneeze on the dog fur that clung onto my clothes, so my mom yelled at me to wash them.

Ryan worked at the pet store with me, but in public we had to act friendzone-y in case a disapproving elderly couple walked by. It was dumb to be that sensitive to other people’s feelings, I know, but it was Ryan’s idea.

Ryan came out to his parents and they hardly minded at all. They were less rigid and conservative than mine. Plus, I think they expected it.

He said it was a really big weight off his shoulders to tell his parents about his sexuality. I assured him I would soon, but I had to wait till the right moment.

--

Senior year was strangely free. All the younger kids were scared of us; we were no longer at the bottom of the food chain.

During spirit week we painted our face with blue, the class color. We stomped around the cafeteria, hollering and scaring the hell out of the freshmen. It was great.

College applications were another story.

“Where are you going to go to college? You’ve applied for like, ten different places already. Any colleges in mind?” Mom was flipping pancakes.

“I was thinking about NYU. It has a really good history, and it’s in our budget.”

Mom stopped flipping and turned to face me. “As in, New York? But that’s so far away.”

That’s kinda the point.

--

orange sherbet sky 

whipped cream splotches 

grape blue ocean

razor strips 

of a  sun-kissed gold sky 

empty air 

filled with silence

nothing more beautiful 

than enjoying the sunset 

an ending to the day 

 a sign showing  today no longer matters 

tommorrow is what counts 

how we dedcide to end the day 

or start the day is simply decided on how we wake at sunrise 

and how we go to bed at sunset 

     The woman with tangled hair sways in front of the reference desk with unblinking eyes. I tuned out and stopped trying to talk to people hours ago, but her sporadic hand motions catch my eye. She huffs under her breath and wanders away. Her shirt is buttoned haphazardly, as if she forgot midway or gave up, exposing a swath of irritated skin and ancient brassiere.

     Sunlight filters through the glass windows. There is a hush in the library as patrons wander, slow and sluggish, pausing often to stare around the room or eye each other blankly. Circling around and around, they carve paths through aisles of bookcases and rows of dead computer monitors.

     An old man teeters to my desk. His mouth opens wide and snaps shut, once, twice. He gestures vaguely over my head and I turn around in my swivel chair but there is nothing. I point to his wife, who sits on the floor next to the copy machine. In her lap lies a dead possum with glassy eyes and a rivulet of blood running from jaws to her muddy skirt. Its long rat tail droops from the crook of her elbow and she strokes the fur slowly, her eyes two moons in a slack face. Yesterday, a lifetime ago, I gave them the daily newspaper and watched as they read and laughed softly in twin armchairs by the window. His eyes follow my finger, hovers on his wife, and passes over.

     People thump against the glass windows like moths. They wander in and out of the door in various states of undress. Do they remember who they are? Did they awake as empty husks, instinct propelling them to routines—drive to work, drop off kids, pick up groceries? They move with aimless purpose, without speaking, some sit down abruptly like infants. Outside, a car careens down the street and into a tree, folding into itself like a cardboard box. A man stumbles out, dazed, blood running down his face, and stands there with his neck craned back to look at the cloudless sky. What answers will you find up there, carless man? Everywhere there are abandoned cars: flipped over on the street or parked in incongruous spots, crooked and random, in the library parking lot. 

     A naked man with a pale, hairy belly walks up and down the fiction aisles, raking his nails along the spines. Before I could call out, he sweeps his hand across a shelf in a single furious motion. The books fall like dying birds, pages flapping and torn. A girl sitting near the magazine racks tears out pages by the handful. People watch and I look into the emptiness of their expressions, already unfamiliar and inhuman. All this knowledge, all this useless paper containing stories and memories and information, as irrelevant as firewood to a flintless man. I hear the sound of laughing and guttural weeping, echoing and faint as if from a great distance. Heads turn slowly at the sound of my keening, but no one approaches.

Darkness sliding

under my head

as the rooster on

the nightstand

blasts out air

Sunday!

Oh no!

I forget my coat

and hat as I shove 

myself out the door

The stairs morph

into the outstretched

pages of a book

Last page

Trees twist an inch

Scratchy bookmark on my head

I finally push in

Globes already spinning away

Tables kneeling before

sun-washed shelves

Secret air fanning 

ferns and orchids

as they meditate

Picking up The Secret Garden

I begin my sleep

Tied in a boat,

kicked out to sea.

All I have is this tiny window.

Laid bare to sway, unconcerned.

Remnants of mal de mer,

give way to the chunder.

Way before I paid no heed,

this time, the dead-rise swells below;

rocking the hull ... rocking the hull.

Battens flex for the trade winds,

bringing to bear the thought of incessant goodbyes.

Your face, figuring on the horizon,

sets my mirage for the day.

Then, the water sluices it away.

I am too sick to send farewell;

the ocean heaves my attempts overboard.

The inwale grips me.

I gaze upon the waterline ....

I know I must continue to find shore.

~Jessi (image and poem)

#freeverse

I took a quick step thinking

I know just where to go

but as I saw the road I

just knew that I would sew

another rip another tear 

upon my hopeful stance

but all I could hold onto

was this walk was my chance

I won't ever stop to smell

I met a young girl selling

I bought from her a bag

and asked her soul compelling

if she would join me and

she shook her head and shook my voice

away from her own mind

I knew just then she'd made a choice

and orphaned was my kind

I wont ever lose my way

I filled it with my vigor

but rations spoke too low

so seeking to configure

I paid to make it so

full that I couldn't carry 

on one stone shoulder long

so taking turns I'd tarry

and yell my feet along

I wont ever sleep

My sister of the wood sang

I tried to be on tune

but whistles sounded lacking

in mirth and fell too soon

I screamed within my soul and

I told myself to snap 

out of my lonely thought band

and make sure not to nap 

I wont ever stop to ask 

A tree I found quite empty

and here I made my nest

I asked that mother plenty

would mind if I'd undress

her leaves and moss and pillows

made from her green gifts

and as I lay soft billows

of wind played with my wisps 

I wont ever stop to think 

One day I stopped to track it

and saw the trail so clear

I yelled and ran to meet it

my heart said I was near

I took a sharp turn joyful 

I said "This is the way!"

but what I met was soiled

ghost marks marred in clay 

I wont ever give up 

My tears came without bidding

I realized my mistake

a home is not peace giving

if sin is in its wake

I can walk a hundred days

a thousand steps per boot

abandoned page will still relay

past stains to absolute