Audrey Wu – Ecosystemic Magazine

Sunrise at the Lincoln Memorial – Poetry

14May

By Audrey WuNo Comments

Sunrise at the Lincoln Memorial – Poetry

Image courtesy of Dean OliverWritten by Audrey WuI watch the sunriseeach morning at the Lincoln MemorialIt is barely winteronly late November, but there’s a quieteeriness, a hint of knitted frostblanketingour sleeping nationI watch the sunriseand wonder what they saw when they built thiswhat they would have thought of someone like mean American, who belongs to this countryas much as it belongs to meas much as the men on those rusted copper penniesyet theirs are the faces immortalizedtheirs are the names memorializedI watch the sunrisebut it is creeping closer and closer stillthe curtain is drawingand through the tilted blindsthe light seeps through.The ground can’t be greenwhen our “Fathers” spilled the blood,crimson with each golden glare of the afterglow.When will you see thatthis n...

We Were Made for Golden Dandelions

By Audrey Wu folded meticulously they leave dimly lit handprint and amber waves turn crimson with the sunrise how does a sun dare to draw its rosy curtain upon a scene where her children lie prostrate when their chests once rose upon her appearance we forget a sun once lit up their faces scintillating until constellations blew out their eyes and in a few months we forget those faces just as we forget the honeyed taste of sun our souls are not nuclear our hearts aren’t meant to cover with clouts we were made for golden dandelions and skies bluer than the grays of bodies molting into soil our landscapes are littered and loitered our cranes have become plastic our pooled-up hope crumpling with promises of “we’ll see each other again.” folded meticulously they leave dimly lit handpr...

Pushback

By Audrey Wu What if we were born pushers Off the backs of this mother Whose fingers have rusted green Like those of Lady Liberty Maybe we were meant to become oxymorons Killing what gives us breath And breathing what brings us death We are not falling off the edge of a cliff But dangling our feet like the rim of a swimming pool Or walls where wine sloshes like watered down banter Against the tilting glass Glass now freckled stars beneath our feet Glass that was never rose colored to start with Are we the force that pulls the dawn in From her rosy comfort Do we dare ask her to join the march Leaving shadows behind us Hoping they’ll become imprints Because we are not the exception We are the young And the scared And the hurting And we are asking you to help