It’s #nationalpoetrymonth #NaPoWriMo Day8: I’m Tweeting 8 or more lines from poems that I’ve written, some published or performed, some not.
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
10 yrs since I lost you, I weep, reminded every month by a bleeding cruel joke or by daily hugs from the miracle that followed. #NaPoWriMo
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
I silently wonder: where do the souls of the wanted, the unborn go? Not by choice: into their mother’s buried well of tears. #NaPoWriMo
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
At the bed of the river, we wove a wreath of daisies, roses and chrysanthemums, with our circle of friends chanting prayer songs. #NaPoWriMo
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
What lifts the spirit of the wanted unborn to the sky? A weighted crucifix pulled by the ropes of their parents’ arms, clenching? #NaPoWriMo
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
Who hears the cries of the unborn, weeping in my belly? The silence deafens me. #NaPoWriMo
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
Words unspoken fuel the scarcity of these poems, miscarried, hiding in the shadows, tearing at the stained sheets. #NaPoWriMo
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
Lines etched in my palms, /poems became my lifeline, /voice to outside world. #NaPoWriMo #haiku #credo
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
Growing up with tragedies in your family teaches you the power of words like “Kawawa Naman,” as if they truly feel sorry for you. #NaPoWriMo
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
You avoid telling your immigrant mother, her back bent washing others’ laundry, because you have no words to translate all that. #NaPoWriMo
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
Growing up #Filipino in America, you learn to record all this sh*t down in writing. To avoid schizophrenia, you become a poet. #NaPoWriMo
— Emily P. Lawsin (@emilylawsin) April 8, 2013
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