In my teens I quadded with simplicity
earth, fire, air, water
made perfect sense to me.
I could calculate in quiet
using energy, emotion and my skills
to form synergy: lost things found,
a future perceived, plants that lived
and flourished with my thumb so green.
And I could hear
animals speak, quadding
body, feelings, thoughts, relationality.
I make up words, as you can see.
Love is precision, you know what I mean?
I could read hearts.
And as for lies
they loomed as large and painful
as smoke in your eyes.
Flagrant wrongdoing seemed to melt
heated words ungrounded in reality,
dissonance felt, and yet unseen.
Or so it seemed.
For when I pointed out
all around me
the lying was indulged and
mediocrity took hold
of the adults. I fought the mold–
said I would never grow old.
And that still holds.
I gotta speak my truth
—call me witch, call me weird—
my heart holds in sooth
reality is multitiered.
And I’m holding space for you
that bold heart of your youth.
Your voice, unique,
is all we need:
I snapped the photo at the Lyon Arboretum on Oahu.