To avoid confrontation, I adopt a simple frame-of-mind.
Those conditioned to crave social constructs
Beg to differ.
Delusion, delusion, I am delusion.
The sky is black, I am gray. Objectivity a barely cracked shell.
Decolonize the mind.
If it were not for colonization, I would not be writing to you.
I am lifting and lowering my fingers, just to insulate myself from my past.
I say that people are inherently good. That the socially awkward boy who
Insulted me before serving me is just confused.
He didn’t mean it.
A faccade worn is not such a bad thing
Mirages prompt common notions.
Did you see his daughter?
She has long, fine hair. She knows her ratas, satas, natas
Boys moon for her. When she laughs it resonates like a song
Why can’t I be her?
Words that slip, wandering ideas receive a platform
And a voice of a grudge breaks into
A snide remark
You are the plainest girl I have ever seen
I wear prayer beads for pendant, contentment as perfume
And pleasant words speak for me. They make up for samsaric duties (naturally)
Here they promise things: Liberty, equality
Also justice (but this we do not get to decide)
Displacement, uprooting teaches us to mollify ourselves
When race and power structure
Pervade mealtime, we may shrink before the challenge
An academic may reference: determinism. A convoluted idea—
Reject it, forget it, throw it away.
Forgetting is ignorance
But ignorance is not a bliss
My neighbors can whistle, my neighbors beam
But they are only infatuated with life
Nothing more
Decolonize the past, my past
There is no permanence in life
But somehow
Letting go is impossible
Sherab T. Namgyal is a happy woman
But I prefer not to think about her past
Shortly after her husband crashed out of existence
She retreated from life
One day, two years after the pain began
She hit her daughter when the topic of fatherhood arose
She told her that
That man was no more
