Category Archives: Poetry

Flowers for Soon Chung Park

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PeacePowerLove

Flowers for Soon Chung Park, 74; Suncha Kim, 69; Yong Ae Yue, 63; Hyun Jung Grant, 51; Xiaojie Tan, 49; Daoyou Feng, 44; Paul Andre Michels, 54; Delaina Ashley Yaun, 33
Peace: 9″ x 6″ Watercolor on Cold Press
Power: 8.5″ x 8″ Watercolor on Cold Press
Love: 9″ x 6.5″ Watercolor on Cold Press
Prints available on Society6

Rest in peace and
the power we are taking back
Soften into
the immense afterglow of love
you ignited in all of us
and these flowers—
they are for you,
Dear ones
Home grown
with bittersweet tears and gentle light;
Immortal blooms
that will not be forgotten
(I’ll make sure of it).

I lost my language

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I lost my language when
a thousand whispers told me it wasn’t worth keeping
The early Saturday mornings in class
were interfering with my weekends.

Now don’t get me wrong:
I am thankful for the priviledges I hold
granted by
English proficiency;
my communication skills
my writing abilities

But something still makes me feel raw
when I could not describe to my grandpa
the great depths to which I loved him
on those heavy days preceding his passing.
And years earlier
when I could never assure him
I was eager to listen when he wanted to talk
about grandma after she had also gone—
maybe then could his tears flow a little more easily.

And it still doesn’t sit right with me
when I could not explain to my grandma
how much ill health it perpetuated inside me
when she’d criticized my body;
A stolen chance
to make amends
Instead lay a silent chasm between us
until she died and
I was on the other side of the country.

Great regrets hurricane through me
as I desperately grasp ruptured threads of
my ancestor’s resonances
All that remains is
an immense lump in my throat
accumulated with
words that got lost in transit or
arrived too late to be received
bereaved messengers that never fullfilled their purpose.

Yet I know my language isn’t too late to find again
because even though all my of grandparents have left
I could at least pray to them
in a way they’d want me to.

Yoni Shakti Rising

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Meditating Women: 6″ x 8″ x 1.5″ Acrylic on Birch Panels (3 of 15)
Full series on display at The Nidra Nest

Be aware of this movement. She is growing and unstoppable.
Yoni Shakti is rising, and you’d best be accountable.
Yoginis and allies: spread the word.
The fire of survivors will be heard,
so that femmes may reclaim yoga in it’s original canvas—
a sacred tradition for healing and justice.

COMPILATION OF EVIDENCE [info]
A list of highly positioned yoga teachers who have enacted gender-based abuse unto their students, along with their supporting institutions.

THIRTEEN WARNING SIGNALS [info] [poster]
Cautionary indicators that a yoga teacher, community, and/ or institution may be perpetrating gender-based abuse.

NINE CALLS TO ACTION [info] [poster]
What we must do to effectively resist and dismantle industrial yoga’s structures of gender-based abuse.

WOMB-FRIENDLY YOGA MANIFESTO [info]
Yoga techniques to avoid or practice with caution throughout the womb’s various cycles and conditions.

How to heal yourself from the inside out

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HippocampusThe Birth and Death of Memories: 800 x 524 px
Golgi Stain of the Hippocampus by The Geisel School of Medicine at Dartmouth

Step 1:
Walk.
Breath.
Sit and
peel away the layers
one
by
one.
Take time to
observe all
nooks and crannies
everywhere and
in between
delicate folds
within your
deepest sheaths.		 Step 2:
Hold your wounds
with a quality of
tenderness
warmth and
Compassion.
Listen to your heart and
every beat it echoes as you
Honor and
Adore
its raw exposure.
Embrace this
divine mass and
promise
you’ll always
Be there.		 Step 3:
Love and be loved.
Radiate
that mushy goo
out of every cell in your
Heart.
Connect with other
Wholehearts
and allow them to
beat beside you
in a
triumphant rhythm
that    roars
all that is
Good
across the sky.

My Mother’s Plants

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SunburstSunburst: 24″ x 24″ Acrylic on Canvas Print

The plants that
Sit
inside my mother’s house are
Gorgeously Blooming
all year long
with
Radiant Life.

She hasn’t read a single book on
horticulture or
used a special fertilizer but I think
they   trust   her.
Although they haven’t been around her whole life
I have a feeling they Know
of

all the meals she cooked for us
all the messes she cleaned up after us
all the dreams she made real for us and
all the nurturance she channeled to us
when we had fallen to the ground and could not get up
on our own—

I have a good feeling they Know
that she risked her life escaping chains for us
that she worked day and night to build a better life for us
that she breathed patiently throughout our reckless years for us and
that she loved us to the moon no matter what.

I’m fairly certain they’ve always Known
that their life was sown
by
Selfless   Hands
enamored with
more than enough
Care
they needed to   g r o w.

You are not allowed to be an asshole!

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You are not allowed to be an asshole
I don’t care if you’re running for local office or president of the United States
You’re just not allowed to be an asshole!

Even if you are a back up dancer for Beyonce or
look like Jennifer Lawrence or
Orlando Bloom or
any other gorgeous celebrity who can shoot arrows like a boss.

Even if you won sixteen trophies from wrestling, football, rugby, and squash
I don’t care if you ran nine marathons or can successfully stick your ankles behind your head…
Oh and by the way, namaste to you too, betches
Thanks for turning a beautiful South Asian tradition into an expensive ego trip.

Every human being has a story and a struggle
Your fancy schmancy shit does not put you above that
sex worker
homeless man
pregnant teenager
or person with addictions
You are not allowed to be an asshole to them

Even if you own a 1000 leather bound books or your apartment smells like rich mahogany
Even if you can tell me precisely how old this wine is or know the entire history of Pablo Picasso’s paintings.

You are not allowed to be an asshole
Even if you can regurgitate social justice rhetoric while juggling knives on a unicycle or work for the U.N.
In that case, you need to stop being a hypocritical asshole

And to be frank, I don’t care if you single handedly prevented a pandemic or discovered a cure for premenstrual cramps…

well…

I guess if you found a cure for premenstrual cramps,
you might be allowed to be an asshole…

Though until then,
STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE.

Yoga Nidra

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Yoga NidraYoga Nidra: 20″ x 24″ Acrylic on Canvas

Year after year,
living blindly in loopy chains,
‘till Life pinned me so eloquently to a corner where from myself,
I could not escape.
She told me, “The architecture of your brain needs to change—
you can no longer run, skip, and jump far, far away,
from your internal pains.”
Meditate to medicate.
Day after day now,
my Heart leads the way.

Yoga nidra is a relaxation practice that allows the practitioner to gain deep insight and awareness into unconscious areas of the brain. It subsequently cultivates an ability to rewire samskaras (ingrained patterns of thought, emotions, and behaviours) in a willful manner which in turn assists a way of intentional living. This piece represents the process of yoga nidra: In the center lies deep, dark, unconscious samskaras—that is, outside of our awareness. As we practice, these patterns gradually flow into the light… such like training a skillful eye with acute abilities. The process is slow moving and not always pleasant; painful samskaras present themselves vividly. However, when awareness is established, change is possible. Positive intentions called sankalpas are planted and cultivated—such ones that bring liberation.

Death by Yellow Fever

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Pause.

Pause when you look at me and
blink a few times to
see more clearly because
when you see me
I know you aren’t really seeing me.

Words like
SUBMISSIVE and
OBEDIENT and
DOCILE and
SEX KITTEN

are written all over me;
Your Cursed Words
so far from reality.

See,
My body wasn’t made for you
Yet,
You’ve fetishize me through hungry eyes
You’ve purchased me online as mail order brides
You’ve hired me as Gwen Stefani’s pet puppets in fashionable disguise.

No,
My body wasn’t made for you
Yet,
You’ve casted me in your dehumanizing exotic fantasies
You’ve assumed that I’ll gladly join your groupies
’cause you know,
it was already OK with your primary…

My body wasn’t made for you
to
Claim
Mold
and
Consume

So let me clear the clouds of your faulty perceptions and
So let me unfog the cast on your lenses and
allow you to  s e e  me
for the
Human
I am.