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“Chirp, chirp and chirp.”
I am singing a sweet melody to call for a mate, so I could procreate.
“Chirp, chirp and chirp.”
I have to communicate with my clan of species that food is here.
“Chirp, chirp and chirp.”
I am so happy that I found a worm for my meal.
“Chirp, chirp and chirp.”
I want to spread my wings and soar to the open skies!
“Chirp, chirp and chirp.”
I am so happy that Spring is coming!
By Jazzmin S. Lu
I walk alone on Memory Lane.
Just me, myself and I; makes me a whole unique person.
Some days, I see myself as a child again, embracing the sweet memories of childhood. The bright and long summer days of frolicking in the vast countryside of my hometown.
Some days, I see myself as a teenager. My beloved mother would lecture me to be an obedient daughter; an expectation that I couldn’t fulfill.
Deep within myself, I wanted to be the “real me”: adventurous, creative, outspoken, and rebellious.
This is my memory lane, that I walked so often. Each chapter unfolds before me.
Each lesson and experience taught me to be a better person.
Memory Lane, my favorite path when I need some self-reflection.
By Jazzmin S. Lu
We can’t change how others view us.
But we could change how we view and feel about ourselves.
Keep that inside light bright and let it illuminate outward.
That illumination will set you ablaze and free.
Shine for yourself, not for the world.
Live a life that is worthy with meaning, not engulfed with endless past miseries.
Shine for yourself, not for others.
The light is always within you, keep shining!
By Jazzmin S. Lu
Growing up Asian American and as a female is always a constant struggle for me.
Raised by traditional parents, whereas brainwashing is the norm.
Expectations of the ideal good and obedient daughter was the usual in my family.
I had to embrace my Chinese and Vietnamese ancestral heritage, while adopting to the American culture.
My life struggles and happiness, I lived to tell them now.
My sad and negative memories, I learned to box them up and label it “BAD.”
My good and positive memories, I also learned to box them up and label it “GOOD.”
I called these, “Boxed Memories” that is now currently in a storage place inside my brain.
Sometimes my heart will conjure up emotions to open these boxes when life situations become a stimulus.
My “Boxed Memories” are mine’s to keep and to unbox.
By Jazzmin S. Lu
When I was an unborn child, I lived in my own bubble world.
A bubble with all things for survival and happiness protected by my mother.
My mother fed me, spoke to me, and sang to me softly each day.
I was in harmony with her sadness and happiness each day, for her anticipation of me being born was slowly and madly driving her to insanity.
She waited patiently and until, “whoosh”… the bubble broke, and water gushed me out!
A flash of bright light stung my eyes and I squinted with agony!
“No…no…I am cold!” “Where am I?”
Seconds became minutes and my little brown eyes stared at this strange woman.
I stared with awe and wonder. Where is my bubble? Who is this strange woman and place?
Then this strange woman spoke to me softly with her gentle voice, “Hi there, bubble girl. I am your mother.”
She welcomed me to this world with her warm embrace and kisses.
I am the bubble girl that now have to face this whole new world.
By Jazzmin S. Lu