It’s not enough
just to cry.
I need to explain why
I am lying on the floor, 
and who
pushed me down. 
It’s not
I need to
confess the name
of the invisible tumor
that must be eating my brain.

And if the whys aren’t satisfied,  
rumors will assume the truth.

I shiver without a fever.
I am terrified of shadows.
My pain does not qualify as serious;
not as chronic or sudden or serious, 
or as concerning as death.
But, I agreed not to put another
why in their minds. 

They have
enough already.

When asked to describe my mind, amplified:

I’m in fight-or-flight mode, 
but I don’t swallow moth wings. 
It’s not a joyous flutter I feel. 
In one blink, in one breath, I am feeling
with two shots of adrenaline on a no-sleep diet. 
My thoughts branch out and splinter into thorns, 
and from them fish bone needles fall. 
I’m expected to find a certain one, 
while eyes stare and a stopwatch ticks.
It’s as if I’m always waiting for a consequence. 
I feel life the same way I brace myself for anger to follow lightning.
And, for those who aren’t afraid of thunder, 
this translation will stumble back to doubt, as will I,
until the next time someone asks,
What’s wrong?



About the Poet Jada Yee: I’m a struggling human being who writes poetry. Music has always been an inspiring anchor; my writing coach that gently shakes the neurons out of bed. It’s the joyful, saddening, enraged vocals and melodies that make the inner gray ask for color, and sometimes, it’s the other way around. The escape into the rhythm of writing is one of the best natural highs. My little poems have appeared in Ibis Head Review, Greensboro Review, A Quiet Courage and elsewhere.


In this world of immeasurably
delicate things,
there is a picnic basket spy, 
often mistaken
for the pencil tip crumb
on which the exclamation stands.

Every morning,
at exactly 5:24, 
this unexplorer
twitches in the folds
of concrete trenches.

A splintering squint
enjoying the view
of another partial sunrise.

Fearful and curious as it
counts the same dangers.

A whimper of longing,
an irregular wonder,
the thought of taking
one breath forward.

The thought of one breath…

The explorer within

what it would be like to climb;

to escape before the sun rises, 
before the waiting awakes, 
before the stalling relay resumes.



About the Poet, Jada Yee: Without a doubt, I believe that passion is a companion. My dear companion has helped me recover from my own imperfection. It has helped me define my joys, my fears, my anxiety and my depression. Poetry has given me a voice to express the hard truths. My writing can be found in Crack the Spine, Penny Ante Feud, Tipsy Lit, UndergroundBooks (The Kitchen Poet), Mad Swirl, The Write Place At The Write Time and Vine Leaves Literary Journal.


My fingers around the steering wheel in summer.
The pressure from the seat belt across my shoulder, against my chest and waist.
The numbing volume as I drive beneath the sounds of outdoor living.

My grasp on the shopping cart handle.
Cradling bread, its weight unchanged.
Tomatoes and apples fit in my palm,
but I'm ever so suspicious of their honesty.
In the fall, the warmth inside my clothes.
Heated caffeine coating my throat.
Hot blood in my feet.
The sensitive mind as the heart interprets pain.
And when touch isn’t there, I am thankful for the tears.

Thankful for how they softly caress my trembling face,
and I can almost feel a loving hand rest upon my shoulder.
Feeling the frustration in my first significant scream
as I release it from my lungs.
Finally, something long buried is allowed to breathe.

About the Author: It was during her first year of high school when Jada Yee was introduced to poetry. It quickly became a soulful passion and therapeutic tool. Although her writing resume includes only a small handful of modest publications, the greatest reward has always been the creative process; the “high” that comes from filling a blank page. Jada has been fortunate enough to share her work with a supportive audience of friends and family. Some of her poems have been published in high school and college magazines, Poetry Now, Crack the Spine, and California’s Spring 2004 anthology, “Celebrate! Young Poets Speak Out.”