I am a drawing.
I can peer out at you through the ink letters. Can you see me?
Can you see the young girl with skin fair as buttermilk, wrapped in a comforter
decorated by sakura blooms?
This morning I heard Fuji-san tremble, and I live in Los Angeles.
No.
I do not come from Japanese roots.
But I know tragedy—the heart-rending images flashing across a television screen, or just down the street. These are the moments I send gazes heaven-bound to make sure light still shines down upon us.
War. Earthquakes. Paranoia. Sadness.
If these things could bury us in darkness, the sun, moon, and stars would disappear into the void. We should then see nothing but what lies at our feet.
Yet all these sources continue to illuminate our world as always, revealing what we have never lost even when the earth moved—
People.
There are still people who feel for us
Who reach out for us
Who remind us we exist
And as long as we exist
There is no disaster able to truly shatter our spirits
These are the words written along my arms, creeping towards my face.
I draw so you can see me.
I draw to send comfort
When I am at a lost
For words
To heal the wounds
Time and love must seal.
Can you see me?
*Originally published in Palm 2011
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