To the Photo Down the Hall by Michelle Park (15, Philippines)

It was grandmother’s 70th birthday,
in the summer of 2014
at a garden in Seoul, in a family photo.
The muted strokes of white
across the sky leave
transitory patches of blue,
sunlight bleaching the soil.

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​The breeze tousled the leaves
of the trees as it swirled down
onto the stone pavement.
Mother and father were busy
getting you ready, adorning the floor
with petals and the trees
with lights. Uncle had brought donuts,
my brother and I painting
powdered sugar onto our faces.
We could see the anger raging
across mother’s face, yelling,
“you’re going to ruin the photo!”.
As night rode onto the sky,
unpacking its stars,
I remember holding you
in my bare hands, the sharp
edges leaving a small, uneven
red line across my finger.
You tried fleeing,
but I’d catch you before you did.