July 31, 2019

Paths of Existence: Poetry by Yong C. Takahashi

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Paths of Existence: Poetry by Yong C. Takahashi
Journey 
 
I emerge from the mud 
Caked in past indiscretions 
Mistakes weighing me down 
I attempt to shake it off 
And decide I’d never be able to 
Reduce the heavy load 
I decide to cry until I’m whole 
Hoping not to drown in tears 
Unable to cleanse my past 
I praise the rain that comes but  
It’s cold, dark, and unrelenting 
Not the salvation I prayed for 
When I think I may drown 
The sun comes and warms me 
I look back at the faded footprints 
And marvel how far I’ve traveled 
The old path is almost gone 
The rotted breadcrumbs I left 
To find my way back home 
Are washed away and I must 
Forge a new path to happiness 


The Collector 
 
We can collect treasures 
Even coveting wounds 
That aren’t even ours 
Treasures proudly displayed 
Spotlight shining on them 
Repurposed into excuses 
You can use not to succeed 
After years, they collect dust 
Graying, covered with cobwebs 
Too tired to clean the artifacts  
Scrambling to recoup loss 
But what we can’t gather 
Into our hungry arms is time 

***

Yong Takahashi won the Chattahoochee Valley Writers National Short Story Contest and the Writer’s Digest’s Write It Your Way Contest. She was a finalist in The Restless Books Prize for New Immigrant Writing, Southern Fried Karma Novel Contest, Gemini Magazine Short Story Contest, and Georgia Writers Association Flash Fiction Contest. She was awarded Best Pitch at the Atlanta Writers Club Conference.  Her collection of short stories will be published in 2020. To learn more about Yong, visit: yctwriter.com 

#journeys#life#maturity#poetry
About theJack B. Rochester
3 comments
  • Hank Ellis says:

    I appreciate Ms. Takahashi’s poetry on many levels. I took the liberty of paraphrasing much of “The Journey” and limited it to one interpretation. Thank you for your work.

    Newborn
    I emerge from the womb
    Covered in amniotic fluid
    The continuation of a long line of royalty
    No mistakes, only the promise that he’ll always be with me.
    Synapses firing, awareness just around the corner
    I cry because I’m not whole.
    Bright light, cold, hunger
    Waiting, waiting, waiting…
    At last it comes. A cover for my eyes, the warm body of mother, the nourishing milk.
    All is necessary, but not enough.
    It isn’t complete till I see her eyes looking at me.
    Telling me she loves me.
    Then I can begin my journey.

  • Don Lucerto says:

    The most incredible and thoughtful poems.

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