Pathos of Asian Adoptees

Ty C.

Thank you Ty C. for your sharing your experiences through vivid poetry.

i was in a bad place this morning. 
too receptive to others’ pain 
without an emotional weather vane. 
so… i helped a friend 
to let her thesis find an end. 
and all it made me want to do 
was go to school. 
structure thoughts 
into neatly tied knots. 
i guess if i were blind i’d speak this out. 
but i can’t imagine words without entering into a literary bout. 
i guess i do choose them with lightning speed. 
although, they still flow like a thoroughbred steed. 
so i use my time to feed this need. 
let it spread like weeds with unending seeds. 
Christ, will it ever stop? 
i know most writers would kill for this kind of crop. 
so i feel like it’s my duty to write it down. 
capture it like stolen crowns. 
give it back to king tut’s tomb. 
when really i’m just trying to remember the womb. 
let’s be honest. 
writers write to find their most transparently reflected sight. 
it’s hidden by fear and blocked up ears. 
it’s avoided like the plague and kept quietly vague. 
it’s scary to venture into basements so dark. 
self evaluation ain’t no walk in the park. 
we can’t avoid potholes and worn down soles 
but boy do we try to pretend we’re still happy and whole. 
i’m about to let go entirely 
in the interest of actually finding me.