30 lines for 30 days in a different contient

imagine inhabitting this particular part of earth were here there are only the two seasons of wet and dry
the day and the night love each other and share their times so evenly
so i think the solstices must be sisters
and i think that had the light and the dark clashed like they do back home
then the cactuses and the peppercorns could not have thrived
despite the same orange lichen like moles on the same fragmented granite

i’ve been homesick for my yellow guitar whose strings are sharp through the music is warm
and my mother’s cooking and how we held that space in the kitchen collectively
the snow delicate on the tips of faraway mountains so alike those from my window
the same beams of sunlights in the dryest airs

yesterday i felt grateful
i’m growing fast like the bamboos that carved the music of my new flute
i sleep long nights and mornings but i am not exhausted like before
i saw the beginnings of a revelation as i typed
fragments of my genius through a serif font that i will revisit
is my sadness productive once more?

the hearts that surround me inspire me
ambitions of old returning to my body
i want to again climb mountains and again read essays and again sing ballads
i want to do something great

the world is ending and i am scared
i am smart enough to accept it
but naive enough to not look away
more privilege than i will ever know
and still i try to know

so much harm i perpetuate and still i try to atone
i will feel a lifetime of guilt if it is the only thing i can do
i will bear open my chest if it will spark another precarious revolution
mother, you would love to be here, i think
but let me turn 20 in your arms