admission

CouRaGeouS Cuentos: A Journal of Counternarratives Volume 7 Article 12 admission Necahual . Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.humboldt.edu/courageouscuentos Part of the Bilingual, Multilingual, and Multicultural Education Commons, Chicana/o Studies Commons, Civic and Community Engagement Commons, Community-Based Learning Commons, Creative Writing Commons, Curriculum and Instruction Commons, Domestic and Intimate Partner Violence Commons, Educational Sociology Commons, Ethnic Studies Commons, Feminist, Gender, and Sexuality Studies Commons, Gender and Sexuality Commons, History Commons, Inequality and Stratification Commons, Latin American Languages and Societies Commons, Latina/o Studies Commons, Modern Literature Commons, Politics and Social Change Commons, Race and Ethnicity Commons, Reading and Language Commons, and the Theory, Knowledge and Science Commons Recommended Citation ., Necahual () "admission," CouRaGeouS Cuentos: A Journal of Counternarratives: Vol. 7, Article 12. Available at: https://digitalcommons.humboldt.edu/courageouscuentos/vol7/iss1/12 This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 4.0 License © 2016 Department of Critical Race, Gender & Sexuality Studies (CRGS) at Humboldt State University. This Counternarratives and Reflections is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals at Digital Commons @ Cal Poly Humboldt. It has been accepted for inclusion in CouRaGeouS Cuentos: A Journal of Counternarratives by an authorized administrator of Digital Commons @ Cal Poly Humboldt. For more information, please contact . Volume 7 admission By Necahual strange to land in a place you once called home and there are no familiar faces back to that place for a weekend grandpa is not doing well i have to write something about joy my flight was early, i’m waiting for my mom at the airport i’m crouched against a wall and the lady sitting across from me looks upset but her frown shifts as she opens a fruit roll up, she looks like someone I used to know i went to the doctor this morning and he referred me to a counselor bipolarity medication honesty he speaks in slow motion and i tap the tips of my thumbs with my nails every time i come back here it’s for a funeral or anticipation of i’m still crouched down the lady across from me looked at me in the eyes, i think i’ve been staring at her too long so I look at the couple bickering next to her tonight is a full moon, everyone’s on edge i’ve had over a week and i can’t find a way to write about joy yet my head keeps telling me to write, just a few words in my notes 16 Courageous Cuentos app, just write about something, write about joy it shouldn’t be this hard my heart is not in it i do not feel joy the world is in crisis and i want to revel in joy because joy has become a commodity it can be taken, blown to pieces i replay videos on my phone of my dogs running, splashing in the river, howling, jumping, smiling, tongues out exhausted! i wish i was and i’m scrolling through my library trying to find pictures of smiles and kisses and warm embraces of holiday gatherings and sunshine i scroll through my instagram and see photos of comparisons life before october 7 (and still before that, how many years?) and now and I feel silly foolish, ungrateful that the war inside my head is manageable is probably in my control is soluble but the war no 17 Volume 7 the genocide i walked down the rail leading off the plane an ad for the holocaust greets me and i feel myself lose breath a single dirty shoe in the bottom left corner i wonder, someday there will be a museum for Palestine rubble, photos, discarded cookware and a single dirty shoe. the poster reads ‘not long ago, not far away’ and now i must think of joy i have to 18  (...truncated)