Leaving

9 • 10 • 18  taipei, taiwan

clamshells in the back of the room
whisper out stories of remembered waves.
feel your footprints
as they walk away from you.
I found a bench where I can sit
a triangle in the clouds
imprinted with little shoes and little hands
are any of these words mine?

the idea of contained energy
runs up and down
my thumb
I don’t have anything I have to be.
can I become with you?

today I feel big
my eyes want wide brushstrokes
to comb over small details
delicate edges
bold lines
how many times have I told you
to not sit so long in the sun?

is the sky overrated
so much space
so little to see?
dust fills all of its corners

how many miles does water fall
before it realizes it’s leaving?

hello interwebs

9 • 8 • 18  san francisco, ca

intro intro intro: a confused little tiger trying to find her happy.

If you’re reading this, you’re probably aware that I’m spending this semester travelling to Vietnam, Morocco and Bolivia with 31 other beautiful humans to study climate justice. Travelling in a large group, seeing striking scenes, hearing about tragedy, resilience, rage and hope is a lot of listening. This is going to be my space to talk. And have someone more than my journal hear me. Don’t expect much about the environmental and civil conflicts I’m witnessing. Those ramblings are for my essays. This is my space to feel, not think. A tool to keep myself accountable for self care and processing. Expect the wandering thoughts, poems and art of a confused little tiger trying to find her happy. So, sorry world. But this is for me, not you. Read it or don’t. In the meantime my buddy the interwebs will keep me and my muddled thoughts company.