An Unhindered Outlier

To have the courage to be exactly who I am. - Rebecca Ramdhan

[unhinderedoutlier]

Because I post my poetry randomly, in batches, once in a blue moon... I realize I forgot to post some state-of-the-world relevant poetry here. I think the earlier ones, I kept close to my chest out of not being sure if I should post them at all, but honestly... I might as well. Anyway, here are some drafts that were stuck in my notes app.

Free Palestine (9/22/2024)

Oh you voracious evil, devouring your own body along with the broken people your gluttony ruins--

to what end? The earth will swallow you, laugh last at your pointless bloodshed, your futile warmongering,

serving no real purpose. You will drown in your "ire", suffocating yourselves as you reject Mercy's hand.

...

Free Palestine, pt. 2 (8/21/2025)

swaths of film layer over my eyes in silky arrays to lull me methodically violently to sleep,

dreamless, as if color correction is enough for blood, letting it darken as soil so I can peacefully watch the world turn again without their horror in my field of vision.

...

1/24/2026

How is it that gunshots ring clear across fifty states through glass screen protectors on our phones and we must find it in ourselves to scroll past, as if undisturbed?

Even I, for a moment, possessed and fell with them, my heart bleeding free--still alive, unlike our own people frozen in fear of cold, calculated killers dressed warmer than the protesters, in coats of some time-traveling Nazi whose legacy should have died instead.

Citizens whose crimes are as filmmakers presenting all eyes against cruel eyes watching for a reason to shoot color, so that lifeless bodies find us in 4K.

Yet I thank God I am safe, for now and only feel fear for the future, instead of the immediate second, and hate myself for the comfort and hate that the adrenaline wanes and hate that I am glad it's not me (yet) and hate that hate still persists,

where love ought to pour out, in this land where we sought freedom.

[unhinderedoutlier]

oh heart, you yearn to know the stars to know the soft expanses, the cosmic heat and frost--the flowers blooming endlessly inside my chest refuse to be plucked by greedy hands, but sometimes I wish someone would reach within and smooth the filmy blue petals quietly waiting, watching for the sun

[unhinderedoutlier]

[Thinking and Overthinking]

If only someone could slot an ornate glass spear in the space between my ribs. If only it would pierce easy, seamless, just at the sternum, freezing warm blood.

Not that I want to die, just that I want the catharsis of death, of letting go of this tightly wound cord--this body.

I know that is merely the ease of giving up, letting go, pretending consequence does not apply in death, or doesn't matter, or that the consequence of death is less painful, compared to living and seeing what my attempt at forward motion has wrought. I cannot witness it then, if I am held still, dampened by dew, dirt, and saline shoveled over me. If that.

It seems I cannot see myself clearly.

...

But God has seen, through the stars, to mold me from the sparkling dust, and call me His. What then? Just what can I truly say to the God of the Universe who has intentionally breathed life into the very lungs I desperately wish could collapse as fine linen? It is not up to me;

thank God it is not. For if ever I had tried to sink enough into the fantasy of death, I would never have known the beauty of living in His love for me--knowing He made me with precision, like ornate glass, to rend the very darkness that keeps me asunder, His glory radiating from the fissure, His light

which heals the very depths of my soul, is turned outward, in abundance, in all blessings from the Lord. I want to live.

[unhinderedoutlier]

The blood anticipated has not been spilled as I thought. I am still breathing, and your knife has transformed into dandelions like those I would rip from home to make bright, childish bouquets.

[unhinderedoutlier]

Just in case, this is for you.

May my blood cry out to God like Abel's, begging for mercy on Cain's behalf. Desperately, without worldly reason, only love for my brother--fellow shaper of universes and co-conspirator against a cruel world. In my dreams, we were heroes, fighting evil to the end. I didn't know I would not be able to save you. I didn't think I'd have to. I apologize for being unable to.

May God honor my prayers. Amen.

[unhinderedoutlier]

Can you write a sonnet on sugar canes and mangos 🥭 🥭🥭

the tropic sun warms sweet mangoes today in roadside street food stalls and produce stands, to water thirsty mouths who swelter, say "if I could hold a mango in these hands--"

we walk up, smiling, to the merchant guy who offers sugar cane for chewing down. he says the mango juice and flesh is ripe, and only his are half the price in town.

we buy mangoes and sugar cane to gnaw-- as good a deal between us Guyanese, whose ancestors say gold is what we saw and worth the leisure dollar for a treat.

(though dad won't let me speak to merchant men. my accent's too American for them.)

-- Rebecca Ramdhan

[unhinderedoutlier]

soft to coarse, these fingertips press worry divots into each others' palms. that same red in us, promise of dust, keeps our souls looking through the window, glassy with saline, watching the things that make us-- watching the things that break us--

how do we connect without falling apart at our lack of perspective?

where does empathy come from?

how can I feel your pain with you?

[unhinderedoutlier]

Littlest Sister

of three, wearing a mix-and-match of hand-me -downs like still-bright feathers that I treasured until they were too small for me, just like you.

Fitted in Hollister and Abercrombie that I hated outlining the shape of me, all awash in turquoise, gray-green, purple, pink, white— that never matched the me that wanted to always look just like the both of you.

Funny, I never knew what to do after— just wore mourning black, growing up without knowing what to color my world.

So in you both swooped, as you have done and always will do, and prodded at old molting feathers until I could cast them off myself—made space so I could stretch to full wingspan, pointed me upward and forward,

until I flew toward my own favorite sky blue.

[unhinderedoutlier]

Day in the Life of a Dimension Traveler

the pop of stabbed out air pressure from those K-Cups satisfy a start sound, and coffee sputters out.

portals to other worlds open once in a while, those shimmering tears in the fabric of the universe.

(and who decided it would be fabric between these delicate planes? it’s like they wanted us to collapse in on ourselves as discarded linen)

other-worlders enter politely, passing just out of the corner of my eyes, strange phantoms

who fear my curiosity more than I, ravenous being that I am, should they be caught by me—

to tempt them with whispers and a coffee break from fast- paced journeying and adventuring, so I may drink their stories in, too.

[unhinderedoutlier]

And so a new day dawns, and the world gives way to normalcy and routine, instead of spinning incessantly and heart-achingly slow. Despite a lack of sleep, waking early is somehow a new breath of fresh air and very distinctly tastes of dew. The knowledge of a plan for the day, the responsibility to see it through, and the joy in the company that guides you feels like a blessing in of itself. The most you can do is cherish it, and that is not a hard task—it was never meant to be. Deep breaths, as prayer. And go. And go. And go.

[unhinderedoutlier]

More often than not, time blurs into pools of muddy water- colors swirling before my eyes.

Only a new swipe of sky blue-- the sun lighting the shadows-- reawakens some cognizance

of the voices of my lifelong friends, whom I constantly miss, even since the very conception of this canvas.

[unhinderedoutlier]

And what do we gain from all this loss? Worlds upon worlds have stopped-- their eyes dimmed, their blood spilled-- our collapsible universe has long since folded in on itself, and died with them. No one is allowed to tell me what to do anymore. Free Palestine.

[unhinderedoutlier]

Did you know, it is said that the moles peppering your skin are a lover's mark from a past life--wherever they kissed most often is where you'll find their love.

So of course I searched my body, even looking close at the familiar temple, upper lip, back of the hand, and thigh moles that I've known forever.

"That was a devoted man," my friend says with certainty, eyes wide and yet entirely unsurprised by the way they trace up my arms. She nods like she knew him, like she knew he'd leave a precious little mark on my stomach-- even scatter a few down my legs and feet.

Or maybe she thought there was no one else I could love, except that someone who loved me so sweetly. I wonder if I can find him again, in this life.

If I do, I will look for his moles, too. If there aren't enough, I will make sure to leave countless more, as thanks for loving me so much.

[unhinderedoutlier]

and so within whispers drifting upward out of the car parked by my home— questions of faith in our sighs, songs of praise in our laughter, stories spilling endlessly—the joy of newfound friendship, I rest

[unhinderedoutlier]

[...on Frieren and yearning]

oh to be loved like the warmth of the sun, the golden glow as it sets, now etched in one's memory as proof of love, eternal; even should I live like those comets, radiant fleeting joy burning up with each passing second, I would like to love you back, with my whole heart. may I be like the petals coasting on spring breeze, and may you think of me often, long after I leave. may I remember you in all things, in carved silver, bronze, even gold, and may you love me even when we grow too old.

[unhinderedoutlier]

how do I convey the beauty of grace-- the substance of faith that alters reality, bends it to align the stars at the Father's behest? how do I tell you about our malleable spirit, molded and fashioned by God with all care, all affection, all joy in the working of His creation? how do I get you to see what God sees? you, who glitters with cosmic stardust, who is forged by fire and sharpened by stone, who is the love and pride of the Lord-- the heir God lavishes with His blessings-- you are worthy of life. you are worthy of love.

[unhinderedoutlier]

persimmons sweet on my tongue, I have learned to look for ghosts of memories in crevices of my self--hollowed out heart and bursting lungs, full of toxins which have the habit of clawing up my throat and stealing all the sugar I've consumed to satiate itself and not me.