written june 2023
I am a plant.
My mother's tears watered me
so I could grow.
Like the grass, I refused to be stifled
under the hard rubber soles of my father's shoes,
even when they bruised.
I grew strawberries from my hair
to nourish my younger brother,
a different red stain on his face
than the blood on mine.
I am creeping ivy.
I grow over the window at my father's house
that I dreamt of escaping out of,
the jewellery he bought my mom
that she never wore,
the report cards he yelled over,
ordered A, A, A, A, B, B, C,
the stairs where he kicked me,
the doctor's offices where he made me cry.
I form a thick blanket,
hiding these relics from the world
so no one else has to touch them.
They said it's greener with the scenery,
so I cover my surface with art
to tolerate living in my flesh.
These flowers are my priciest possessions.
They are buried under my younger brother's
sweaty athlete clothes,
saturated with potential
that I was never afforded.
They are covered with photos
of my dead older brother,
just one of many loved ones
who I will never meet.
They are littered with empty sunscreen bottles,
half a dozen strewn about to stop my mom
from getting melanoma again.
She is the family gardener.
None of us would survive
without her gently shaping us.
On my surface is an altar.
My loved ones place offerings at it:
the Lego Pokémon my brother gave me
when I was in the depths of my depression;
the fancy dolls my mom broke the bank
to buy me for my birthdays;
the chest my grandpa built for me;
the Hmong good luck charm
from my best friend;
the Animal Crossing poster
from my other best friend;
the photographed grade school memories
with my other best friend.
Rainbow Bear, my first stuffed animal,
the OG transgender of the family,
who went from "he" to "she"
long before I went from "she" to "he,"
beside me from day one.
Pens, yarn, unfinished crafts
from hobbies I can no longer do.
My pill bottles, one for each year
since I gave up hope on healing.
With each offering, I grow stronger.
Each item adds to my power.
Their love holds me together.
From my mother's tears, I first grew.
With my community's love, I bloomed.