Laundry and Taxes

By Yan-Yin K. Choy

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A storm of emotions sweeping through the golden mountains,
I am the moonlit tumultuous tide,
rolling in and reflecting deep, deep joy,
rolling out and reflecting deep, deep sorrow.

I am the swaying bay laurel trees that thrums and bends,
a spicy aroma wafting into my nostrils.

I am the wave that dances under the moonlight,
unlearning the colonial myth
that I am undeserving of rest, celebration, and support.

I am the sweet, soft lush native grass,
a cushion for your fall on your family hikes.

I am the flap of dragon wings ushering forth rain on the Ohlone land,
waterfalls flowing heavier, like the roaring sound of my heartbeat post-heartbreak: growing stronger.

I am the unbounded possibility of future,
my ancestors' wildest dreams unleashed.

I am the fragrant incense and plume of smoke drifting through the air,
as we pay homage with offerings
of sweet and fluffy Char Siu Bao,
of crispy roast duck,
of strong Iron Goddess tea, and
of steamed shiitake mushrooms, snap peas, and bok choy,
all for my elders in the spiritual realm.

I am the abyss of memory,
secrets collected under the watchful eye of forests and mountains on Ohlone land.

I am the kaleidoscope of soft sunset, every color representing the variations of my life in the multiverse.
I am the vast salt marshes, with bay tides gently dancing under the sunset,
grounded in the love abundant in my life,
I embrace that this is the universe where I'm meant to be.

I am the glow of containing all of this turmoil,
Alchemizing into a flock of marsh wrens, singing their playful songs,
soaring high, high, high.