Bored Immigrant Poetry

There is neither best nor most  in anything. Wonderful and tormenting superlatives are born out of faith and consciousness. How I respond. How it makes me feel. How it drives me to create beauty or fury. It is only ignorance that complicates an essence. 

I am sitting in Queen’s park, admiring the young and the old on a merry Wednesday. Bizarre, sweet, surprising, rollicking, and sometimes dramatic behaviors flash before me. Principles. Logic. Humanity. I know. I see myself in each heart. I see my past in each face. I see my worth in each move. Nothing fancy. Just desperate for human connections. Behind  the smiles and hidden in laughs are loneliness and suppressed pains which would later become a satisfying phenomenon. Behind the closed doors. On keys. On paper. On to a computer screen. I’m alive. I believe in living. 

Thank you for the inspiration.

— S