It was I

It was I,
and not my mind.

To slave away to a treacherous master
was not in my will.
And so, shoot I, I did,
like a soldier in pride.
And even though I was never a soldier
or have never been in a war,
I now know, in times of defeat,
a bullet to a self is how you escape
from a prisoner camp, and
from shame and chains;
a bullet to a self is how you walk into
the arms of — freedom.

I shall shoot myself if I could
and I shall make a claim:

It was I,
and not my mind.

Neal Ym (Phalguni Y)
December 21, 2016

A subjective blindness

Oh, you poor thing
You shall be blind
to the beauty within
That’s the tragedy
and the gift
for a healer
for an artist
How much you have touched
How much you have inspired
Your misery is medicine
Your suffering is fuel
to keep a mad world spinning
A flower’s beauty is such
only to the buzzing bees

A flower then to cut herself —

For a dear friend.
Neal Ym (Phalguni Y)
October 16, 2016