I've often found myself contorting,
squeezing into other peoples' boxes.
Maybe it's because I'm small.
I can fit into places easily.
But my stomach hangs over my legs,
petruding over the line.
Stuffing never helps.
Hiding can often reveal more than
So I stopped contorting.
It’s been so long since I’ve written a poem, at first I was afraid to write. I stopped writing a while ago because I felt like I had nothing to say and if I did have something to say I wouldn’t say it right. Then, this summer, my grandma passed away (may she rest in peace). After a long battle against all her signs of weakness she left us and the silence that remained was overwhelming, both from losing her and my will to write. After a long battle against myself, my depression and my guilt, I finally decided to put my fingers on the keyboard again and write my first poem about her. I truly miss her, and I’m still not sure if the words I’ve used can capture the true essence of what a great woman she was. But I’m trying, and if I can even capture a tiny part of her through my poetry, then I think I’m doing as well as I possible can to preserve her memory.
Rest in peace Granny ❤