newness

he said we are born

with more than what we die with.

firsts: an abundance

of unopened memories.

the first time you say

“thank you,” and your heart aches with

gratitude, not duty.

your first discovery

of one’s betrayal,

of your own fragility, the

lie, like an ember,

burnt its way through your

bloodstream. it settled in your

heart where it smolders still.

Like the first time your

eyes take in the vastness of

the sea – yet your mind

has yet to catch up to the

feeling.

you cannot have a

lifetime filled with

the ambiguity of

an unknown fondness.

discovery is for the young.

you are born with a

handful of firsts, like coins to

make wishes in a well.

and soon you forget

the feeling of newness.

he said we are born

with more than what we die with

and had he known I

was his last taste of newness,

he would have held his breath

forever.

***

The above is a poem motivated by the fleeting days of May, and tests, and uniforms, and desks. This poem began as a response to my final days of high school – a life filled with new beginnings. Whether it is making new friends or first days of class, I have spent the last 13 years of my life submerged in a sea of newness. Now that I am to reflect on both my past, here, and my future, university, and impending adulthood, I see that I have taken advantage of these firsts. We are conditioned to anticipate these things, rush our lives from one to the next, yet there will come a point, and I am not sure how close that point may be, where we will no longer find joy in rushing; instead, it will be that act of remembrance that fills our hearts with joy and longing. As I reach the climactic days of graduation, I look backward at a monumental schooling experience with warmth and nostalgia, but also grief and sadness – and to my future with anticipation, nervousness, and a more profound appreciation the beauty behind the newness of it all.