name. Sarya Wu
right now. Fourth year studying Spanish and Business at the University of Edinburgh
Winter #2
Each person
skirts around the scaffolding they promised would be done
by the time I graduate
Like wisps rushing away from a fire pit
Casual and fast
I wish I could catch them one by one to tell them
the bouts of urgency should take a break sometimes
to let them know that they are their own personal beacons of beauty
Combusting in different hues of the cold winter blues
in overtly large scarves and coats,
letting their clothes say what their frozen faces cannot.
The heart is never just "superficial" or "basic",
Never what people judge you aesthetically to be-
Nothing is ever what it seems
whether you're "normcore" sporting anoraks
or hipster beard bearing coffee connoisseurs,
you're still cold when you're outside at night
and still desiring warmth in the embraces you share
still deriving joy from the company of friendship
and suffering from the pain of heartbreak
forgetting that the man who begs outside the nearby deli
has a reason
a name
and a story
just like all of us
and
we all walk along the same pavements
running off to wherever we are appointed to go
sometimes failing to know the potential friendship in another
"click-clack!" stomping closely behind you
late for a lecture
or a shift at work
even running to catch a bus,
perhaps enjoying the same kind of breath mints
the same kind of music
and the same kind of simple pleasures
especially the type that involves surveying strangers
and seeing which kind of conversation will be a catalyst to a relationship
of any sort
noting which contexts help bloom a seedling of a dynamic
that is fruitful as a forest is with quiet life
rife with curious wonder...
only if you allow it to strike you like thunder,
to stop you in your tracks
and feel
everything.
these are the thoughts that keep me up at night
there are cream puddles of pathetic ice lollies on the floor and wet abandoned gloves sticking on the sharp fence tips/ sagging as if waving to the lost opportunity of making things work and staying together/ i hear the squeaking of rubber soles gliding for lack of friction against the perpetually moist concrete that is molested by the rain every single morning and night/the water seeps through my coat and my jumper and is content to keep itself there uninvited no matter how long i put it on the radiator to dry/there's an unknown and ominous stain that keeps me suspicious of whatever i may have touched, hugged, or crawled on in the last 6 months/ i understand that my trust in everything is eroding like the polar ice caps that so many idiots don't believe in/ i aimlessly amble around on the apathetic airs of autumn kissed alleys, attributing this lack of rhythm or speed to a fundamental lack of motivation/i understand this is my reality and not anyone elses'/ but i also understand that this is the only reality that has been cracked in the periphery because it has failed to intersect with yours/ and it is also just like the moment you enter the off-license to buy ketchup and you spend 5 minutes deciding whether or not you want the Heinz bottle or the shitty off-brand option that costs literally £1.49 less/ then you see someone take one off the shelf without thinking/and you have little debate with yourself on whether that person is more privileged than you/ then you decide to fuck all rhyme and reason and splurge and so you grab "fancy one" only to put it back 5 seconds later when you remember that you're broke as shite/ and so is the rest of this goddamn existence regardless of your monetary wealth because sadness is part of longing which is part of yearning which is part of desire which is part of living/ at least according to buddha who said accept that you are suffering but accept that you can overlook that with all the beauty in this world/ and when i was in primary school they asked if we could have dinner with any body dead or alive i should have said "siddartha gautama" because then i could have thrown the question at him / "what if i love and i love and i love and i love and still suffer?" / i would have loved to known the answer to that question but instead my 10 year old brain said "martin luther king" because i still believed in dreams at the time
Ripple
A striped tanktop
I grasp at the waist
like a lifeline.
Your intimacy
saves me
from my mind.
And when you are gone
I will try not to pine.
I will think back to the shivers
tingling down my spine,
Of your red hair and blue eyes
Of your freckles and giggles
Of an attraction
That was all
Too simple.
Of your face and its simples
Like a pond and its ripples
Exciting a body
That was just,
Still.
Much too still.
Find Sarya saying stuff to people on stages on Thursdays at the Forest Cafe from 18:00 to 20:00.
Go have a peak at her facebook page as well: