Friday, April 19, 2024
Here I am, feeling bloodless and cold in the middle of a heatwave
In a world in which the percentage of humanity left
It is just one percent
trying to remember when parents did not have their stomachs distended
while they wait for their child to come home.
Or when children learn to read and write,
And not just how to survive in case…someone makes a decision to plan a funeral for them.
Or when gunpowder was used for fireworks.
Not to drain the blood of our brothers and sisters.
Or when people of color could rest assured knowing their kids would come home and the world would love them for who they are.
Well, I cannot remember either.
Because, in this case, “when” did not exist.
Have you ever seen or heard the ocean cry before?
I’ve… I have… while asking for the world’s healing.
I remember
The wave pulled me in
The lavish rising of the sun,
And…
When the sun dips underneath the horizon
Like needles, the memories pierce my skin
In my palm, I amassed the tears.
Trying to explain the universe.
To take this poisonous world back.
Because here we are again, continuously fighting for something that we were born to have, equality
Alternatively, people keep pulling at our veins, even though we scream that it hurts.
And…
still, I waited for nightfall.
Having a painful conversation with the moon
As to why, after all those years, we continue to create painful memories that we know could cause us to bleed to death.
On my knees, I pray on this night, I’ll be blessed with a shooting star.
Asking to return to a time when love existed.
Knowing very well I didn’t belong in the past (my ancestor scars remind me)
So rather, I will ask for a love brighter than the Galaxy
I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead and sticking my clothes to my skin as I hope the world will someday heal,
just like the roses blooming so beautifully.
But my heart aches as I remember that these roses have thorns. The thorns represent the pain that the world is in.
So, have you ever seen or heard the ocean cry before?
I have, but I was too young, and that should not be a part of a child’s memory.
Regardless of whether you’ve seen or heard the ocean cries,
I hope you aren’t one of the reasons why
these tears at the moment are turning into blood.
And those tears stain, you know.
-by Ashlee Joly
Long Island has a long history with poetry, and has served as the birthplace, residence and summer home of writers and poets from Walt Whitman to F. Scott Fitzgerald. Now Ashlee Joly, a recent graduate from Locust Valley High School, has joined their ranks by becoming a finalist for the New York City Youth Poet Laureate Program.
The program is a competition which is meant to support and highlight youth voices by honing their poetry writing and performing skills. The program, which has been running since 2009, is coordinated by NYC Votes, an independent city agency run by the city’s Campaign Finance Board to promote fair and open elections, and Urban Word, an organization which promotes young and marginalized voices as leaders in both the civic and literary fields.
“We use poetry, hip-hop and the arts to promote leadership, civic engagement and social impact as well as literacy,” Shanelle Gabriel, executive director of Urban Word, explained. “What we try to do is just give young people as many opportunities to grew and to have platforms for their work.”
Based in New York and founded in 1999, Urban Word works with 250,000 local students 13 to 19 every year, and thousands more across the country in the National Youth Poet Laureate Program.
The national program began in 2017 and has been replicated and supported in many communities across the United States. The first recipient of the title National Youth Poet Laureate was Amanda Gorman, who delivered her poem “The Hill We Climb” at President Joe Biden’s inauguration ceremony.
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