Sameen Shakya
The world is scary. The world is dark.
It makes you want to crawl back
To the womb
But since that’s impossible
I turn to memory.
My mind is a guitar I tune
To the tune of any year I please
And with a pluck, the waves of music
Puddle into a scene.
Here I strum to the chord of D
It’s 2003 and I am seven.
Seven years old in a museum.
Sitting in front of a portrait
Of a man they say is a king.
I don’t know what king means.
Now I strum to the chord of C
It’s 2007 and I am eleven.
I’ve just learned who Buddha is.
He shares my last name.
I feel proud, but don’t know why.
Let us strum to the chord of G
It is 2013 and I’ve learned of poems
In English and I write some poems
In English and I read more poems
In English but there’s nothing wrong with that.
Right?
The next strum is in A minor
It is 2018 and I’m in USA
IDONTBELONGIDONTBELONG
IDONTBELONGIDONTBELONG
IDONTBELONGIDONTBELONG
WHATTHEHELLAMIDOINGHERE
WHATTHEHELLAMIDOINGHERE
WHATTHEHELLAMIDOINGHERE
I strum but my fingers bleed
The song I sing singes my tongue
Because it’s not for my tongue to sing
These words are foreign to me
But so are the words to which I was born
So I strum because I feel
The world so scary anddark.
I want to crawl back to the womb
But that’s impossible
The womb doesn’t recognize me
