I know love is a candlelit power outage-- feeling transparent, as though I could disappear.
I know pain lingers under bedsheets, dances on the ceiling-- lives in between bouts of laughter wedgedinbetween book pages hidden behind "I miss yous" and "be safes"
I know love as trust, as home. Feeling safe in my mom's arms.
I know joy as folklore. Like recess spent looking through the window pane. My mind is a classroom.
I am heard, seen, understood, myself.
I know love as warmth travelling through my body as I sip my grandmother's homemade soup. I know pain as a friend when my grandfather passes away.
I know joy feels like sunshine upon my skin-- the wonderful taste of juicy strawberries shared with me by my loved one.
I know pain through the throbbing jolt in my head as I eat the ice cream my mother bought me. Coming home after school upset because the kids made me feel different.
I am bright eyes and salty water.
I know love when my partner cares more about me than me. I know pain when I get ignored or rejected by the people I care about.
Pain is a broken heart.
I know joy when I've been playing the Sims for over 4 hours straight, as a way to stop war and make world peace.
I know joy from seeing the face of loved ones since the beginning of life.
I know joy was there when I binged watching DeGrassi for days on end.
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The Journey: Friday Nights at the Museum
PoetryAs the ROM Youth Cabinet, we completed our Wattpad writings with the support of Indigenous community members: Embodied Storyteller Monique Mojica; Artistic Director of Chocolate Woman Collective from the Kuna and Rappahannock Nations, Anishinaabeg K...