Worthless Worries

April 23, 2010
By Cecilia Villacis PLATINUM, Mountain View, California
Cecilia Villacis PLATINUM, Mountain View, California
20 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The lady asked me
If I was from Brazil.
I guess when a fish gets thrown on land,
It either dies, or grows legs.
Soon he’ll forget
Of ever being in the water, in the currents.
If a snake is thrown in the clouds,
The venom will become sweet juice;
The scales soft clouds.
Wings will form and he will fly, and all apples vanish;
All olives appear.
But if you return;
If Frankenstein’s monster
Wanders back home,
Oh tears will cascade
From eyes of new color.
But eyes of old will see
No blood.
They see no home,
Pillars instead.
The waves of change have chipped
The mother.
The child lives a moment,
And another wave
Carries him away.
And then he will see:
No earth, nor sky, nor wave nor being
Can make him an emperor.
He is a sound wave
Traveling through the wind,
Growing less and less distinct
Until nobody knows
Who made the sound.
But is it so much better
To wrap a flower in newspaper
When all it would do
Is save it from the rain?
On trees, flowers bloom.
Spring has come with April showers.
It is precious.
Beauty, though, cannot be seen
When hidden.
The flower sleeps in black love,
Consumed by safety,
Hidden in an artificial night.
In the air
It would be drowned
By the cool venom
Of foreign tramps.
The flower would breathe open air.
It would laugh a high laugh.
It would dance with friends
At what was home
And call it “My mother”,
Then return to her new home
And call it “My Friend”.
Then visit any new place
And call it “Myself”.
Her smile will be all the more different.
That difference,
Only she will understand
And soon her petals may turn a new color.
Her bloom may become an apple.
She may survive, adapt, and smile,
Or she may fall
And she’ll then fall still smiling
Until that smile breaks off into a thousand pieces
To settle across the globe,
Entering the eternal calmness
Of the everlasting sun,
It will soak into the river
And sift into the valleys.
It will dance with all the blades of grass
For all its spotless wealth.
This she can call
“My forever. My home, my adventure.
My direction,
My arrow.
My walls and my body.
My always, my past, my present, my future.
My blessing.
All mine, all everybody’s flag.”

The author's comments:
I was in Miya Jima, on a class trip to Japan. I have a Japanese mom, and an Ecuadorian dad, sharing a dual citizenship until I become an adult.I live in California though. Going to Japan makes my mind go wild, thinking about identity and stuff. This is one of those goose chases.

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