iAM Poetry - Spring 2021 Zine

When Does A Person Become Just A Weed | Reia Tariq

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IAM POETRY X GUELPH U

The Program Each student submitted a series of poems created during this program through prompts and discussions for their final assignment.

Add a little bit of body text

Junior Mentors Kelisha Daley Nadya Alhajam

Mentor Zara Rahman

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Table of contents

IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

4...............................Quotes from the poets 5...............................Abigail Todd 6...............................Aamoo 7 ..............................Khiem 2 8...............................Kiri 11.............................Aswani 13.............................Monet 15.............................Zainab 16.............................Sarah 18.............................Mariko

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Quotes from the poets IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

"I was so happy to find myself in this program. The program gave me the chance to write more and 2 make my writing more powerful and meaningful; I am so grateful for this experience. Thank you so much for this program! " -Sarah

"This program taught me so much, not only about poetry, but also about myself. I’ve had a great time meeting so many different people, developing my thoughts into words, and expanding my creative horizons. Thank you, JAYU!" -Abigail Todd

I truly loved this poetry program! I started out not knowing much about poetry at all, though I was always a huge admirer of it. This course taught me so much about writing, poetry and even diversity in every aspect. Thank you so much for this amazing opportunity and program!

-Mariko "Coming from a traditional poetry background,

this program was a great entry into the world of spoken word. I was struck by how welcoming everyone was! What a great community.

Definitely sticking around."

-Khiem "Despite my social anxiety, I really enjoyed this program and tried to overcome my strange fear of zoom meetings. I really struggled in school because of this fear since I found it hard to introduce myself as an online presence. I love how supportive everyone was and how we all helped each other out with our works of art. I hope to stay connected with the people I met through this program. Thank you!"

-Aamoo "I can’t believe the six weeks went by so quickly.

I learned to be more intentional with my writing and I feel more comfortable sharing my stories overall. I also loved hearing poems from other artists because I love storytelling and poetry is an amazing way to tell your story."

-Aswani

"This program was such an educational inspiring blessing, really honoured to have met these incredible artists and grown in every way. I appreciate the all-ness that goes into this work so much."

"This program was amazing. I’ve always loved writing poetry, -Kiri but I didn’t really know how to make my writing more purposeful or personal. I learned a lot about how to connect different aspects of my life and various writing techniques and integrate them in my work. It was such a blast learning from an incredibly talented group of people and I am so grateful for this experience. Thank you so much for this program!"

-Monet

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IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

Prisoner of Thought i. My body is behind bars and the thing holding me back is my mind. I am a servant to my brain, thrown in a cell and held there, no hope of escape. The words I feed myself time and time again guard the entrance, the only visitors I have whispers of false encouragement to remain in place. ii. The uniform I wear is the opposite of bullet-proof; it’s a thin sheet of my own doubts, woven together day after day. It does not match with anything, with anyone. It is one of a kind, some might say, unique to only me. But there is strength in numbers, and I am alone; there is protection in well-made armor, but mine is easy to break. iii. I could tug on these restraints, but I know the metal won’t budge. I could scream, but the yells inside my head echo louder. I could do nothing at all, but perhaps that’s giving up, giving in. I am trapped, though I can still move; I am frozen, though I can still sink deeper into my own memories. iv. The window lets in just enough light to see, and somewhere in the back of my head, I tell myself that’s enough. I don’t need to experience something so pleasant, something so bright and enticing. I can simply view it once or twice a day and make do; the rest of my hours can be in darkness. v. The longer I stay here, the less I crave freedom. I’ve lost sight of whether that’s a good thing or not- am I adjusting, or simply fading? The door is locked, the key thrown so far away I might never reach it. The exits are blocked, covered by my own twisted judgement. And just like that, in the solemn shadow of this familiar jail, I am a prisoner of thought.

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Aamoo She/they @prettyhatemachines

IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

grief, loss, and acceptance i ran into the dark to seek the warmth warmth stood before me with open arms and a smile her auburn hair and honey eyes radiating a golden aura she was like the sun and i was the moon my aura was blue and dim like the moonlight i was as lonely as the moon no matter how many stars had accompanied me all i wanted to be was with her, my sun she grew sick over time with angered clouds masking her sunshine my sunshine vanished behind a dark mist, her sadness her sorrow left her rays dimmed yet i still found warmth within my sun was no longer there, lost in the abyss of the diseased clouds her moon, her child i waited night after night yearning for her warmth again she never rose from the horizon no matter how much i pleaded my sun would never return, my own glow to become my warmth no matter how hard i tried, my moonlight was a saddened tint of blue my embrace would never be as warm as hers

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IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

Self-talk

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IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

Park with the Small Tree and Blue & Green Jungle Gym It's the sparse care of a body’s form in all its glory and all its needs.

It is like a young tree asking for water’s embrace and a back turned finds it instead.

The harm of self that angers me is akin as one too to the stuck thoughts, energies building pressure upon the inner skull of a head overburdened and begging to burst.

The words of asking for solace, from Source that are resisted in their coat of inacceptable that like a bright blue plastic slide sat in the sun stuck on straight skin, unbearable.

Let it cool let it rest let all the rest of you catch up and find the whole park, the whole jungle gym, without and within, on the same page, being willing.

And change comes.

9 Slippery, Static: Fantasy Relationships are hard and fantasy is no place to set up shop

IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

Such ease can be and incredible pain can also show up and morph its way into ages of suffering For me, for us it's a feeling of stuck Galoshes in the muck and just enough water to form a membrane Just enough that my own brains belly head and heart are just as lost in the static Things aren’t changing our pattern remaining is only draining me now When its not filling me up with lust until I overflow and must face the Emptiness that was there ever since That morning The moment after you realized what you did and the grooves revealed themselves now on the plain of thoughts and actions I didn’t know what breaking felt like and I kept it a secret from myself for months Until Venus retrograded through the sky and so did I Somehow the more layers those weeks of deep dives provided offered me the love so real to come to light too Except it wasn’t welcome Not in my eyes and not in hers.

Anymore Or ever So why did it grow so furiously Couldn’t be helped Emotions are like the water and wind; cant be held or held down in your hands A team must be called in to support stable structure for its storm to explode instead in a way that hurts us all less

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IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

I can only imagine But its not a fantasy this time The pieces fit and I want to grow from it This foundation is making way for Me to be Here fully This loop that has stripped me of so much presence, energy, attention and time That was mine to wield not yours Not for your hard hands that refuse my blooming, Mine My pain may go on but my suffering concludes here

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IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

Soulmates I wonder how it feels to feel good enough in your own skin I wonder how it feels to be loved – by me I wonder how you feel when I look at you with my tired eyes I wonder how my mother felt when she gave birth to me I wonder how I will feel when I give birth to my own dear children I wonder if they will ever know I loved them even before their existence I wonder how the world would look if the sky was not blue I wonder how birds fly thousands of miles every year knowing exactly where to go So I wonder why I still get lost just at the grocery store I wonder if my grandmother is looking over me I wonder if she knows that I’m sorry I wonder if you know how much I think about you I wonder what it’s like to have the courage to just not give a fuck I wonder what you meant when you told me you had changed your mind I wonder if you ever changed your mind back I wonder if any amount of closure would reverse my insecurities I wonder if any amount of sleep would help me catch up on the years of built up insomnia I wonder what happens when soul mates fall out of love

12 Depression I told my mom I was sad and she asked me what for She waited four minutes while I ran my inner monologue That refused to transfer into physical movements of my tongue

IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

There are no sound waves to describe the reasons I don’t want to open my eyes in the morning Or explain why breathing feels like a chore because honestly? I don’t know I mean I’ve been breathing the minute I came out of my mother’s womb No one had to teach me how to do that So why is it now that sometimes I forget how?

She told me my hair looks like I haven’t showered in weeks I told her I don’t think I have And she laughed, as if I was joking And I laughed too – just to hide the fact that I was actually genuinely telling the truth “Of course you’re not happy, your room is a mess” Or maybe I’m not happy because my life is a mess But don’t ask me how because I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started Depression showed up one day at my doorsteps uninvited She did not introduce herself to me or tell me her favourite colour I don’t know why she liked to hang around but Depression fell in love with me And I was too polite to say I didn’t feel the same way so I just let her stay I made sure she was comfortable in my home as you would for any guest I let her sleep in my bed, under my covers Where she convinced me to stay another hour Then she convinced me it was too late to start my day now anyways I tried to take her out to parties but she always asked to leave early I stopped accepting invitations At first, out of obligation to Depression, but now out of habit Depression grew on me – we have a very intimate relationship She lets me cry on her shoulders, no questions asked Wraps her arms around me, the best blanket I know She keeps me safe, reminds me she won’t walk out on me like my father And unlike my mother, understands my frustrations even when I can’t string them into coherent sentences She’s consistent unlike my childhood homes – or the spaces I occupied until we moved to the next She does not make empty promises or have unrealistic expectations for me to live up to She doesn’t make me do things I don’t want to – like get out of bed Or attend family functions Or eat breakfast, or lunch, or dinner My doctor suggested medication So I stopped going for check-ups She told me I have Depression I said thank god because I don’t know who I am without her I don’t know as in I forgot Depression - the gas light that sparked the fire that burned my whole house down The house, a metaphor for my body My body, not my own to reclaim Gas lighting, depression.

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IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

Black Love Ballad When I was in the second grade, I got an award for being a good storyteller I guess I understood at that age how to tell a tale worth listening to Captivating others by the rawness of its truth I used to think that I was free to write my own story Without having to worry about it ending prematurely But then I saw it on the news A little girl who looked like me without her father The soul-crushing cries of a mother like mine Begging to hold her child one last time, her son Prejudged, his fate predetermined by a flawed system Because his skin was seen as a threat March 13, 2020. 26-year old Breonna Taylor was shot 6 times and killed by police in her home in Louisville.

April 7, 2020. 26-year old D’andre Campbell was shot and killed by police in his family home in Brampton.

May 25, 2020. 46-year old George Floyd was choked to death for 9 minutes and 29 seconds by police in the street In Minneapolis.

April 13, 2021. 16 year-old Ma’Khia Bryant was shot and killed by police in Ohio.

The list goes on and on and on.

All were unarmed. All their deaths were undeserved but seemingly reserved I keep seeing it in the headlines. Again, and again, and again Constantly bombarded with the possibility That my life could end just as quickly With the false promises that those in authority will address the root of the problem and make changes to solve it; The inequality bestowed by the hue of my skin that forces me to work twice as hard only to get half as far I don’t understand why my skin is seen as a threat I don’t understand why my skin is seen as a threat I don’t understand why it alone warrants a death sentence The claim that “it was just an accident” But what I do understand is the worry etched daily on my mother’s face Scared I’m unprepared for the world, that it won’t let me make it back home Because of the cruelty of the police The vulnerable and visible “minority” left in their hands At the “mercy” of merciless beasts The thin blue line is what officers walk daily between life and death A sign of solidarity with those they swore to protect But it’s hard to have the back of an institution that wears it badge Loud and proud and still does not see someone like me as a person That wretched badge used as an excuse for the abuse of their power When that line is stained with crimson red

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IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

When a call for help turns into a cry of anguish Escalating and ending in unnecessary violence Innocent blood shed as a means of “self-defence” Their entitlement allowing for the consistent ignorance at seeing the difference that holding back a bullet could make Not stopping to think for a second; instead mistaking a toy for a weapon and a gun for a taser Because they fear for their life Well I fear for mine as well Because while they walk on the line I tip-toe in the space in between If things go sideways, they get a slap on the wrist If things go sideways, I cease to exist So how many more necks of innocent human beings Have to be stepped on, trampled on, spit on Until those in power listen and make it a mission to fix what’s wrong?

How many more mothers and fathers Will be forced to grieve and weep and bury their sons and daughters Because their lives were perceived as a crime?

How many more needless deaths should we have to expect Before justice can finally be served?

Before a lesson taught too many times is learned?

Because where there’s no justice, there’s no peace And justice does not equal accountability Under the eyes of God, all men are created equally We all breathe, we all suffer, we all love, we all bleed So why not bother to see me or hear me when I say I can’t breathe Instead choosing to paint me as the enemy Expected to turn the other cheek to the world’s racist continuity When I see the news in the headlines, I am fed up and I have had enough But I am reminded by my Saviour that my skin is not a sin It glitters like gold, written with story after story meant to be told Shining in excellence and endless perseverance, I am beautiful, I am strong, and I am full of love Even though we’re still behind, we’ve come so far on this hill that we climb And at times it can feel like we’re Sisyphus, working on a task that’s unending and tedious But don’t be afraid to write your story because the strides we make are still progress

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No Rest

IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

I am living a life that’s not mine feel my intolerable flesh raw and vulnerable be paralyzed by dread almost like my hand’s been caught in a cookie jar.

My mind wraps the noose around my neck On a constant loop Convoluted thoughts of fictional scenarios With legitimate concerns It wanders from thought to thought Creating and re-creating Countless of scenarios Where I fail Death by a thousand cuts I just want to quiet the noise As the resounding echoes of people’s opinions bounce off the walls as they close in A journey through the hot desert dunes in search of water burdened by the weight of my own delusions in a constant state of flux never at peace consumed by the guilt from a past life.

No rest for the wicked No rest for me

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IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

Ocean Times like this, when night was long, cold and dark.

Times like this, nobody wishes they did exist.

Times like this, I heard a whisper, "This boat is not strong enough to carry this much; will we die?"

Will we see tomorrow?

Time like this, when water was safer than home!

It is like to lose home at the risk of never finding home again, And split your entire life between two lands.

Times like this, all we had were tears at the night and next day morning waiting for the boat to sail, sail away.

Bag full of paper making it clear that you would not be going back.

Lose your name, lose your family, make a refugee camp a home for a year or two or ten!

Times like this, all you can hear,"Hello, we need help right here." Will we see tomorrow?

Fire under feet, hot blood in your belly.

And boat it is the only place that will take you!

No one would understand!

How can a little boy hold a gun bigger than his body?

How can a little girl know only two words: ''refugee" and "camps"?

Sun would not rise unless it makes sure that the ocean swallows children.

What does it matter if drowning is easier than staying?

At the end they say:Look what they have done to their own countries, what will they do to ours?

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IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

It has been a long time since I had a quiet moment.

But why?

Hmm, I have a, what was it called again?

Whatever name is not important, I still have it!

My dad hated it, he cannot deal with me anymore, he thinks I am crazy.

Hahaha, my mom says I am insane, she cannot take it anymore too.

I can see, they get tired of me. I mean being that way...

How to explain, they did not give me even one chance to talk!

Little they know, what you are?

Little they know how you make me feel?

Little they know that you are the only thing that won't let me go!!!

How can I explain, where to start from?

I joke about having you; just to see how people will react!

My parents will get mad like I broke the TV, or they will laugh like they are watching Mr Bean.

Suddenly, it feels like someone breaking my body into small parts.

Then I say what they would do if they knew I already contain you.

You start to laugh at me, and you have such different ways to laugh at me.

Once you made me feel like there was a bird pecking on my brain.

You make me press on my fingers in such a bad way, that they will hurt.

Now I have three broken fingers.

You have no time, you would come in before knocking. I told you I do not want any guests...

I still take a shower everyday, just because someone touched me on the sidewalk a month ago.

You come at wrong times, at rush hours, when I am being productive just to destroy me; to make my heart vibrate, to give me watery eyes, and shaky body.

I stop in the middle of four walls, they feel like a huge monster surrounding me; you made them look that way.

Even when they have a baby blue paint all over them.

I cry with myself, I need balance. I need to live. I need to be free.

You were once a helper but not anymore.

I cannot wake up early, cuz you made me think if I washed my hands yesterday? cuz you made me wash my hands thirty times last night.

You are taking too much of me... too much.

I am losing control, let me go.

I cannot get help, my society will laugh at me, they will say: "she is with no brain.", "shame on her she feels that way."

What to say more.

When you cry cuz one letter you did not like, in a whole paragraph of 3500 words, and 7 pages single spaced.

When you end up cleaning for days, no stop, no rest; just cuz there was water on the floor.

When you are obsessed with things that people won't even notice.

When you lose a ring and you end up having a panic attack.

When you will throw out the most things you love just cuz they get touched by a person that is not you.

You took too much from my life; that moment, the days, you keep taking away so much beauty from my life.

I cannot treat you.

I lost so many times.

I rub my hands so hard thinking that I got rid of you, I took the skin off, blood everywhere.

What kind of feeling you make me feel!

Now, this simple poem kills me, cuz you do not like it; you want it to sound more poetic, sounds like it is the best poem ever written about you.

What was your name, again?

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Mariko Kato she/her

IAM POETRY SPRING 2021

Home I am trapped in a whirl of colours and sounds All unique and all unfamiliar, though maybe that’s what makes them beautiful, They are distant as if I have dreamt them before And they are fighting their way, As if trapped under ice They are there, if only I can grab them Hold them, and cradle them in my arms Yet, when I finally do, They are dull I look them straight in the eyes and see only myself reflected Myself in a million mirrors, None of which are familiar to me “This is home” I tell myself Is this home?

Is this the warm glow of hot chocolate in a microwave?

The smell of fire filling my lungs and surrounding me The knitted sweater laying over my heart and hugging me tight Or is this the bitter regret of realizing the drink has gone cold, The smoke is choking you And the sweater is sopping wet Because you laid in wait for too lo “This is home” So why don’t I belong

2021