Birth a Monsoon

Melinda Wang

                                                                                                                                                 Monsoon season for you looks like bits of paper floating in water,
                                                                                                                                              sog and sash when the chew of a wad of wet paper makes my jaw
                                                                                                                                              harden and my teeth cringe. Monsoon seasons tells me your direct
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           revelations
                                                                                                                                                are nothing short of strange meetings between you and that little
                                                                                                                                           creature living in your body, as you pluck stems from cherry pits and
                                                                                                                                                   throw them to the Earth. You know they will not grow. Monsoon
                                                                                                                                   season tells me just how narrow your hips are, if a baby can be born from
                                                                                                                                                nothing. Monsoon season reminds me of the day I arrived supine,
                                                                                                                                       under the guidance of a small god. Monsoon season tears paper holes
                                                                                                                             in my chest and knots the silly shreds into bows to put in your hair. Monsoon
                                                                                                                               season shows me you are fragile, capable of being blown away, tenderness
                                                                                                                            in your veins. The monsoons share these things and yet you stand, Earthborn
                                                                                                                                    and bubbling at the surface, early morning, cutting up newspapers at the
                                                                                                                        table like it’s no one’s business. Still, if the monsoons don’t tell me where you are
                                                                                                                                                I promise to find you in the weeping winds when rain meets ocean
                                                                                                                                                                                                                            far beyond you and I.

Melinda Wang is a fifteen-year-old high schooler living in Santa Monica, California. She has been recognized by the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) and Polyphony Lit for her fiction and creative nonfiction. Her favorite school subject isEnglish and she enjoys writing about the natural world and her lived experiences, often through fiction and poetry. In her free time, she enjoys learning how to empower others through words, bird watching, and learning about whales.

"India - Matheran - 18 - Monsoon rains" by mckaysavage is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

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UNDER THE MADNESS
A magazine for teen writers—by teen writers. Under the Madness brings together student editors from across New Hampshire under the mentorship of the state poet laureate to focus on the experiences of teens from around the world. Whether you live in Berlin, NH, or Berlin, Germany—whether you wake up every day in Africa, Asia, Australia, Europe, North or South America—we’re interested in reading you!