About the Column:

Poems of Our Climate is a weekly poetry column run by Sofia Baluyut,‘23. The column was founded by Oliver Egger ‘23 as a part of the literary magazine group Route 9. Submit and read past issues of The Lavender at Route9.org. If you are interested in having your poem featured in this column, Poems of Our Climate, please email your work directly to sbaluyut@wesleyan.edu. 

 

No matter what this world calls us, someone called us theirs

I am pointing at myself.

which is to say,

I am pointing at a past

past me.

 

Because a threshold is not just a point of entry,

but a finger

Yes! In a middle; somewhere.

 

I am dreaming of that day–

 

presence presented you in a flash;

flood.

And then, 

dissipated, once

again. 

 

Turn left at the sign

With red characters hired to fill white space

Look down.

“another baby” in a box 

where breath lay posted 

with a post-it note:

May 11, 2003

 

less than a week old, I had learned to reach

And now,

Even boundaries were borderless.

 

Were your eyes still smiling, touching me a final time?

 

your creation

built close to a heart

                  to a love

before hands carved

eternal folds of form, and

I think I can still feel it.

 

The syncopation of our beats– 

 

Farewell must also mean hello. 

Because sometimes we are gone before named

 

and although I do not know who named me,

mine suits me well

 

太元順、 have a smooth journey.

 

About the Poet: 

Ava Yuanshun Guralnick identifies as a being with a body who finds connection to land, seas and everything in between. She is a Chinese American adoptee with biological roots in Jiangsu province and has an immediate adoptive family made up by her Korean mom and white dad. She grew up on Mohican and Lenape land, current day Woodstock/Kingston, NY, and hopes to remain curious, questioning, excited to listen, and passionate about creating.