Mosaic of Memories
San Jose, CA
2021, Junior, Poetry & Spoken Word
Journal 6 entry 251
Write about your special place.
It’s a pink day.
Pink like sprinkled stardust, like soft-pastel boughs.
Pink like dreams masquerading as blooming wildflowers.
You bloom on the edges of rock-hewn cliffs, overlooking aqua waves. The ocean spray mists the
air, droplets landing on this graphite-stained page.
We’re both here to avoid something, wildflowers.
Me, the people. You, the climate.
You came early this year, and you left early, too.
Journal 7 entry 159
Write what you see around you.
It’s a black and blue night,
The stars shining like a necklace of diamonds,
The water shining like ethereal neon lights, so vibrantly blue.
I think it’s ironically beautiful. That you could be so luminous, and yet so alarming.
You’re proof that the fish are dying. You’re proof that the planet is dying.
You don’t belong here, your green and blue algae. It’s a feeling I know.
Journal 8 entry 18
Write something that you miss.
It’s a blue day, sunshine blue and hydrangeas.
A vendor with fresh oysters, he’s gone now.
I miss the salty taste of sea-salt sliding on my tongue.
He’s gone, because of ocean acidification, overfishing. There are just not enough fresh oysters.
Journal 8 entry 19
Write what you notice.
perhaps a withering patch of wildflowers, perhaps a bioluminescent beach,
Perhaps an oyster vendor without a job.
My teacher asked us how we can raise awareness for climate change today. Strikes, protests,
advocating for awareness. But I can’t do that. I can’t stand in front of people and talk.
Write about climate change.
I flip through these pages filled with words, a collage of past thoughts and past ideas. Idle hands
fill these cream pages, conduits from thoughts long forgotten like ocean waves.
Perhaps, it’s not written well. But I’m writing. I’m fighting. I’m capturing the blooming
wildflowers, the glowing beaches, I’m writing for that oyster vendor.
I don’t sign my name after I’m done. Anonymous. But it doesn’t matter, because with each word
I’m patching this glass-broken, grief-stricken world, until my stories can make it whole.
When I was writing my poem, I thought about all of the activists and people who work tirelessly to advocate for the fight against climate change. It was eye-opening to see how many people care about this—how many protests, organizations and projects there are. However, most of these require going forward, speaking up, and being seen. The problem was, what about the people who don’t feel comfortable doing this? What can they do to help advance the fight against climate change further? I embodied a girl with anxiety to write this poem, someone who isn’t confident enough to be able to speak up or attend protests. She writes as a way of furthering the movement without having to be seen. The message I want to convey is that anyone can do something—anyone, even someone with anxiety. This piece is my way of bringing awareness.