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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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CATHARSIS from Greek κάθαρσις, the notion of ‘release’ through drama (catharsis (sense 1)) derives from Aristotle's Poetics. ![]() the gods speak of me in whispers say I am selfish insatiable because I cannot hold this unfettered tongue (it is a dangerous thing / child / to be this loud) I offer a temperate oath: before I ((refrain / from speaking / like a good Asian daughter / who doesn’t) light your votives in groveling prayer, before I (want too much / of what you can't / or rather / shouldn't) believe you (you will hear the cacophony of the misunderstood (your culture / your family / we are not as you make it seem / won’t you just say we are / positive & / light & / good) profane mortals with no venerated epics or hymns so (nevermind / put down your pen / be / loved) forgive me let judgment come when out of a march emerges (your need to be / loved / so self-indulgent) a song in two octaves lower than (those radical american scum / don’t listen) how it was meant to be sung from a distance (i have given you nothing / to cry about) the rhoptron bellows and bellows and thunders and time (will tell you / to stop / writing) to sink into the sanctity of soil, my last (time to stop) drink of wine from our kylix my mouth, unbaptized Gaea does not scorn me. She peels away darkness, leaves only softness for my daughter for her daughter no longer at war, I am someplace that loves me back She cleaves her hemispheres, presses another earth into me, the sky weightless, she brings forth a pen, a lost line of good (--in silence / you will be this way too) Asian daughters, voices no longer hollowed feet unbound (to bring shame / humor us) tongues refraining for nothing (--not even this war / is freedom) light, for nothing else is so (wasted / nothing else so dishonorable / nothing else so reprehensible for not even your grandmother / can speak what you write) unfettered, I exhale tell me I am not who they say I am and so she speaks to me (with the tenderness of which she harbors her dwellers) I should indeed be selfish insatiable for dead poets don't speak in tongues, but in teeth. Comments are closed.
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September 2023
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