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  why do i hurt the ones

  who want to lift me up and

  worship the ones who crush me

  - what made me like this

  i don’t know what to do with a man

  who wants to hold on to me

  for the rest of our lives

  i’m afraid i won’t find the one who sees me

  and rushes to breathe me in

  i have a fear of seeming too desperate

  i’m scared i will be cheated on

  with a woman more brilliant

  more striking

  more of me in every way

  terrified this will confirm what i know already

  that i am not enough for someone to stay

  where is the burning match that will set me on fire

  what if i’ve already walked by the one

  on a street corner

  what if i’ve already been with them

  and ruined it

  who will love me enough to

  spend their energy getting close

  to someone so inconsistent

  what if the one i want

  is someone who touches me and leaves

  and the one who doesn’t leave

  is someone i can’t stand touching me

  will it always be bad timing

  will i ever be sure

  will i settle

  will i be on my own forever

  your partner is supposed to

  enrich your life

  not drain it

  staying when it hurts is not love

  i’m too in love with my life

  to be spilling all over the floor

  for the next man

  who gives me butterflies

  when i could look in the mirror

  and take my own breath away

  the love of family

  friends and community

  is just as potent

  as the love

  of a romantic relationship

  nothing can replace

  how the women in my life

  make me feel

  it’s impossible

  for one person to

  fill you up

  in all the ways

  you need to be filled

  your partner

  can’t be your everything

  i can live without romantic love

  but i can’t survive without

  the women i call friends

  they know exactly what i need

  before i even know i need it

  the way we hold space

  for each other is just different

  a man can’t give me anything

  i can’t give myself

  - things i wish i could tell the younger me

  masturbation

  is meditation

  in a world that doesn’t consider

  my body to be mine

  self-pleasure is an act

  of self-preservation

  when i’m feeling disconnected

  i connect with my center

  touch by touch

  i drop back into myself

  at the orgasm

  i’m not going to pretend

  to be less intelligent than i am

  so a man can feel

  more comfortable around me

  the one i deserve

  will see my greatness and

  want to lift it higher

  i want you to wipe away

  everything you know about love

  and start with one word

  kindness

  give it to them

  let them give it to you

  be two pillars

  equal in your love

  and you’ll carry empires on your backs

  i wrap my holy legs

  around his heavy head

  and let his tongue swim

  toward salvation

  - baptize

  i want someone who is

  inspired by my brilliance

  not threatened by it

  look me in the eyes

  when you’re down there

  eating for your life

  - i want you to see what you do to me

  i’m careful about

  who i spend my energy on

  - i know my worth

  my body is so hot from wanting you

  i’m spilling by the time we take our clothes off

  i want the kind of love that

  transcends me

  into another realm

  i want you so deep

  we enter the spirit world

  go from being gentle to rough

  i want eye contact

  spread my legs to

  opposite ends of the room

  and look with your fingers

  i want my soul to be touched

  by the tip of yours

  i want to come

  out of this room

  different people

  - can you do that

  there are years in me

  that have not slept

  i measure my self-worth

  by how productive i’ve been

  but no matter

  how hard i work

  i still feel inadequate

  - productivity guilt

  i fear that

  my best years are behind me

  and nothing beyond this point will add up

  i have this productivity anxiety

  that everyone else is working harder than me

  and i’m going to be left behind

  cause i’m not working fast enough

  long enough

  and i’m wasting my time

  i don’t sit down to have breakfast

  i take it to go

  i call my mother when i’m free—otherwise

  it takes too long to have a conversation

  i put off everything that

  won’t bring me closer to my dreams

  as if the things i’m putting off

  are not the dream themselves

  isn’t the dream

  that i have a mother to call

  and a table to eat breakfast at

  instead i’m lost in the sick need

  to optimize every hour of my day

  so i’m improving in some way

  making money in some way

  advancing my career in some way

  because that’s what it takes

  to be successful

  right

  i excavate my life

  package it up

  sell it to the world

  and when they ask for more

  i dig through bones

  trying to write poems

  capitalism got inside my head

  and made me think my only value

  is how much i produce

  for people to consume

  capitalism got inside my head

  and made me think

  i am of worth

  as long as i am working

  i learned impatience from it

  i learned self-doubt from it

  learned to plant seeds in the ground

  and expect flowers the next day

  but magic

  doesn’t work like that

  magic doesn’t happen

  cause i’ve figured out how to

  pack more work in a day

  magic moves

  by the laws of nature

  and nature has its own clock


  magic happens

  when we play

  when we escape

  daydream and imagine

  that’s where everything

  with the power to fulfill us

  is waiting on its knees for us

  - productivity anxiety

  we can work

  at our own pace

  and still be

  successful

  while i was growing up

  my dad worked six days a week

  driving an eighteen-wheeler truck

  from one end of the continent to the other

  he’d come home

  after a week on the road

  while my siblings and i would be sleeping

  the sound of the front door always woke me

  the basement we lived in was small

  i could hear mom in the kitchen

  making him a fresh meal of dal and roti

  dad would eat

  shower

  settle into bed

  but as soon as his eyes drifted off

  his boss would call and say

  get back on the road again

  and just like that

  we’d catch a glimpse of dad leaving

  when you’re an immigrant

  you keep your head down and stay working

  when you’re a refugee and

  you don’t have papers

  when they call you illegal

  outsider

  terrorist

  towelhead

  you work until your bones become dust

  you are the only one you can count on

  every time he started at a new company

  he’d spend months working for free

  during their mandatory “training” period

  funny how they needed to train a man

  who was fully licensed

  qualified

  and experienced

  after the third month of

  not taking a penny home

  dad would demand compensation

  and they’d offer him

  five cents for every mile he drove

  years ago while driving a load

  from montreal to florida

  he ended up at a hospital

  somewhere in the middle of america

  with his appendix moments away

  from bursting

  when the doctor told him

  they had to get him into surgery immediately

  he looked at her and said

  i can’t afford it

  can this wait until i get back home to canada

  when do you get back home the doctor asked

  in three days he responded

  and she looked at him like he must

  be out of his mind

  luckily

  she didn’t have it in her

  to let him risk his life

  she performed the surgery for free that night

  and you want to know what my dad did

  right after they stitched him up

  he walked out of the hospital

  climbed into his truck

  finished the delivery

  and spent three days driving back home

  why would you put yourself through that i ask

  he shrugs his shoulders and tells me

  my boss wouldn’t get me a flight home

  where would i leave my truck

  i couldn’t drive back with a trailer full

  of undelivered car parts

  and risk losing my job

  while listening to him

  all i can think is that

  no one should have to work to the bone like that

  it breaks me into pieces to hear

  about every person who grinds

  for less than what they’re worth

  how do we sleep at night

  knowing the systems we uphold

  treat the foundations of our society

  as second-class citizens

  when they are the reason

  the wheels of this world stay turning

  i want to give my dad

  a lifetime of peace

  for the lifetime he spent

  on the road to feed us

  i want him to know

  what comfort feels like

  i want him to see

  he’s done enough

  - a lifetime on the road

  when the kids at school asked

  where my mom worked

  i lied and said at the factory

  like all the other moms

  i was too embarrassed to admit

  she didn’t have a “real job”

  even though “stay-at-home mom” meant

  she was a full-time caregiver

  driver

  chef

  secretary

  tutor

  cleaner

  best friend

  of four kids and

  the world’s definition of a “real job”

  couldn’t begin to cover all that

  - value

  we were always in survival mode

  long after we didn’t need to be

  - habit

  i’m stuck in

  this constant cycle

  of running off to build my life

  and running back cause

  i feel guilty about not

  spending enough time with them

  - parent-guilt

  i thought my brown immigrant body

  should always work harder

  than everyone else in the room

  because that’s what made me valuable

  our elders are not disposable

  the land sprawled its limbs

  and said put your feet up

  the trees said we will give you life

  the air said breathe me in

  the earth said

  take care of what takes care of you

  and we turned our backs on all of them

  - betrayal

  we’ve ruined

  our only home for

  convenience and profit

  neither of which will be

  useful once the earth

  can’t breathe

  being the loudest on earth’s playground

  doesn’t make us any more important than

  the dirt we crush beneath our feet

  we are nothing except air

  and fire and water and soil

  we are a people

  who forget what we are made of

  a people who talk about the weather

  as if it’s mundane and not magic

  as if the oceans

  are not holy water

  as if the sky

  is not a vision

  as if the animals

  are not our siblings

  as if nature is not god

  and rain is not god’s tears

  and we are not god’s children

  as if god is not the earth itself

  i was trying to fit into a system

  that left me empty

  - capitalism

  i thought i could

  accomplish my way

  into being happy

  but nothing on the outside

  fulfilled me in the ways

  it had promised

  happiness grew old

  waiting for me

  and i grew old

  searching for happiness

  in places it did not live

  our souls

  will no
t be soothed

  by what we achieve

  how we look

  or all the hard work we do

  even if we managed to

  make all the money in the world

  we’d be left feeling empty for something

  our souls ache for community

  our deepest being craves one another

  we need to be connected

  to feel alive

  i get so lost

  in where i want to go

  i forget that the place i’m in

  is already quite magical

  i miss the days my friends

  knew every mundane detail about my life

  and i knew every ordinary detail about theirs

  adulthood has starved me of that consistency

  that us

  the walks around the block

  the long conversations when we were

  too lost in the moment to care what time it was

  when we won and celebrated

  when we failed and celebrated harder

  when we were just kids

  now we have our very important jobs

  that fill up our very busy schedules

  we compare calendars just to plan coffee dates

  that one of us eventually cancels

  cause adulthood is being too exhausted

  to leave our apartments most days

  i miss knowing i once belonged

  to a group of people bigger than myself

  that belonging made life easier to live

  - friendship nostalgia

  we already have the things that can complete us

  they just aren’t things

  they are people

  and laughter and connection

  - irreplaceable

  you might have done

  the external work

  but your mind is starving

  for internal attention

  - listen

  i’m throwing the whole concept of

  commercialized self-help out altogether