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  • Natanin Rachapradit


I have come to realized

That I am not made of stardust

But rather just

Good old flesh and bones

That, and well-intentioned though flawed parenting

Wound tight around the darkness

That I carry like genetics

Passed on from my mother

And all the women that came before her

Though perhaps I am luckier

To be born in a generation

That’s unlearning the cinched corsets

Taking away the wire brassiere

But the marks of it stains

It clings in the way I still curve my shoulders


And smile instead of disagreeing

I find myself frustrated

Constantly, feeling like

I take too much and too little space

All at once

How does the quiet

Get heard on a planet

Of 7 billion

All craving to be seen - I do not know

But I suppose that’s why

Some of us write poetry or sing or dance

Make art - Saying here, here’s my heart

And I am alive and it’s beating a tune

Do you feel it too sometimes?

I haven’t quite mastered my voice yet

My body isn’t invisible

But it is oriental

And with my soft voice it becomes translucent

And I don’t like the way my edges softens

Because try as hard as I might

I am not made of stardust

And I might slip through the cracks

If I -

If I -

I do not know

Maybe it might be easier in my daughter’s turn

But I shall make do - for I am made of rough, sharp things

That are dark and ugly and will make your hands bleed

If not handled carefully

A mixed bag of things stained with my own history

And the footprints of careless tourists

That fail to notice,

Despite their brief visits

Some of us reside in my temple


The visitors leave eventually

When they realize

In the pitch black of the night

That I am not made of starlight

But rather broken glass

That shine curiously like diamonds in certain lights

I have been told that girl,

You need to stop

Asking for permission

That for the world to listen and worship you

You need to make a monument of yourself first

And I am trying so hard

To worship the goddess in me

But how do I prop her back up when she’s been

Trampled down

So many times now I can barely see her silhouette

And I know that if you look far enough

You’d find that I sparkle

That I can be magnetic and regal

and beautiful - that I look almost like the answer

But I am so close to the mirror

I do not have the privilege of liking myself occasionally

I wish I can tell you

That I know how to worship the goddess within me

Even when the shards of glass

Don’t glitter like diamonds

That I am made of my parents’ love

And even with their questionable parenting

Is stronger than the emptiness

That lurks in the cavity of my chest

But alas, I am not made of stardust

But broken glass

Just flesh and bones

And they all feel

Far too heavy

To go anywhere today

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