Ladies of the Moon
Chang’e of the mourning and remembering,
Watching the world move and humans living
and dying,
Dreaming in memories and yearning in vain.
Ix Chel of the star-weaving and healing,
Face of scars carrying burdens, hopes, and
loves,
Letting them flow or fade as the nights go
on and on.
Kaguya of the bamboos and mountains,
Peacefully in solitude and oblivion yet
Flecks of memories still cling desperately
on the feathers.
Artemis of hunting and resilience,
Persistence and defiance celebrated,
Solace and solidarity given.
Coyolxauhqui of the wrath and hunger,
Always moving for death means submission,
Always fighting because one has to.
Painted Demon’s Rouge Vanity
The eyes are quick to judge and condemn
For certain shades and certain shapes.
“Looks don’t matter—”
If beauty is surely a sign of virtue,
Then why are rotten vices framed in gold?
“It’s who you are that matters—”
If ugliness is such a sign of a worthy
person,
Then why must we constantly cover up with
too tight clothes and itchy masks
Just to get treated like a person?
If only such pretty prose and poetry
Were ever enough to hide such vile
hypocrisy.
Do not blame me if your loyal spouse and
friends and family
Follow/stalk me—
Think of it of me ridding you of jealous poisons and unfaithful oaths.
Selkie’s Beauty
Why should we be locked-down
On a certain default ordered by someone
else?
Why should we chain down a certain
appearance
For careless and vain ones?
Why should we imprison ourselves to certain
preference
When it is our life to live?
When there’s abundance of variety in the
world—
The array of textures in fur, scales,
blubber, feathers, and skin to touch;
The array of shapes in curves, circles,
lines, and muscles to feel;
The array of color in every hue of the holy
and worthy earth to behold—
We will not play the fool in displeasure.
So,
C’mon,
Unlock your hidden cloaks inside your
cheats,
Then walk-fly-swim out of the warden’s
vanity cage.
C’mon,
Laugh in defiance,
Sing in rebellion,
Breath in loveliness.
Ash-Girl
Heart bright with so much kindness
That cruel people are compelled to cover it
with ash.
Constantly working and cleaning
To receive snide comments and shallow
critiques
As displays of love.
It’s easy for a gentle flame to burn
quickly without ash
But some stay bright and warm despite the
wounds and tears.
Perhaps they are too exhausted and
traumatized to be rude.
Nonetheless,
Goodness comes to them in the end,
From a doll, some bones, a grave, some
birds, a tree, a nanny.
A few nights dressed in the beautiful
clothes and fine jewels
Can make a lifetime of kindness worth it and the future seem brighter.
Baba Yaga
Listen closely to your baba, child,
For she has lived in darkness for some
time.
There are people who preach
That beatings and bruises are symbols of
love,
That degrading comments and conditional
kindness are words of love,
That forced labor that break bones and
shreds skin are action are actions of love—
When they are not.
It’s good to be kind and hardworking,
But it’s reckless to be naïve.
With my spells, with my wisdom,
I shall help you grow into a terrifying
salvation
So that people will both be thankful and afraid of you.
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