we are womxn • • • Stella Thé

we are womxn

Stella Thé

Artist Statement: These are poems about the women in my life, the first being my birth mother, the second being my mother, and the last being my grandmother. The collection is meant to follow the events of a single year starting with my birthday April 19th and ending with the day my grandmother died and showing the life cycle of a single individual through the stories of many.

4.19 – questions for my mommy Dear mommy--

- who are you? - what is your name? - who is my father? - who was your mother? - are you still alive?

- what are you? - what do you do? - do you work? - are you rich? - or are you poor?

- where are you? - where do i come from? - how did i get to the steps of the orphanage? - did you leave me in the night? - did you leave me to die?

- why did you give me away? - did i cry too loud? - was i too ugly? - did i waste 9 months of your life - did you want a boy?

dear mommy--

please write back to me.

sincerely, your child 10.1 floating

the wooden frame sighs as the frail woman lowers herself into the chair legs tremble

although she does not weigh much her heavy soul sinks into the floor taking the last glimpse of her down with it

i can see her once beautiful face wrinkle with age and worry and give itself to the sickness

[she claims] nothing is changing [she claims] there is hope but i’m just not sure anymore

i want to believe her but i can feel something has changed this time it’s different

she knows i know but there is still a struggle and i can see a head bobbing between the floorboards

her head slips under

slipping down towards something ~unfamiliar~

i too start to lose my footing

but i must worry about her keeping her head afloat

12.6 奶奶 Eyes: glued on the rotting wood beneath her not daring to meet the gaze of another not daring to meet the gaze of the corpse.

Mouth: breathing heavy, sucking in dust too terrified to move too terrified to stay quiet.

Legs: screaming out in pain from running as fast as she can as fast as she can until she can’t.

Eyes dart around-- searching for 奶奶. Mouth crying out for 奶奶. Legs running towards heaven to find 奶奶.

She runs out of the church where 奶奶 lays still still lying there and all the people sit quietly.

She runs out of the church and runs all the way to 奶奶’s house where 奶奶’s still alive.

The door is cracked open the windows are sealed shut and everything sits perfectly, just as it should be.

The air sits still over 奶奶’s bed perfectly made but so empty.

Her apartment: a living relic of what once was of what is now gone.

The fig plant in the corner: she’s slowly dying no one has watered her in months no one has taken care of her. The radiator: still running even though it’s summer she was always so cold but she was always the warmest.

The smell of her perfume still lingers in the air still fills my lungs with a warmth only 奶奶 could give.

Heart: tired aching from missing 奶奶 aching for one last hug from 奶奶.

Arms: tired limp from sitting in the funeral home for 6 hours yesterday limp from sitting in the church for 6 hours today.

Ears: tired filled with the hymns sung by the priest filled with the piercing cries of complete strangers.

奶奶 gone 奶奶去世 奶奶走了.