Birch

by Joanna Chen


This is what I wanted to say to you,
that I was looking for myself
all the time, that I no longer felt safe
in skin that was alternately too tight
or too loose, a covering that simply
did not fit anymore. But the problem

was not my pale British skin, it was
what bubbled and rose up under it,
my center lost under layers of other
people’s expectations of what I
should be. And when I found it,

this troubled center of mine, at 5am
in the chilly space between night and
light, the dawn birds calling to each other
through the jasmine, through the silver
birch, a thousand undiscovered stars
broke out of the dull sky and shone.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s