Sestina Plunging Up and Down and Left and Right

I often pierce frozen soil to dig up some past 

As I stomp my feet to blaze a trail for some present 

The choir of crying voices demanding rights 

Never leaves me. I plunge head first into my slimy lowest lows 

When walls zoom in, hissing that there’s no point to my trying. 

Constantly crossing pressing walls ain’t an easy cross to bear 

I see most are content doing the minimum that’s barely close to being bare

And you might think their asses are on fire, with how fast they rush past

Any event with the slightest chance of putting their beliefs and skills to trial.

When I stand holding a poster in the middle of the street to present 

Them with some things I think are right, their heads sink low 

As if to say “we don’t wanna hear all about (gender equality, climate protection, racial equality, cleaning hair out the shower drains, reproductive rights) 

I think there’s too much between up and down and left and right

And those who say men aren’t that bad and those who choose the bear 

Also, ain’t it strange that so many celebrate whilst so many others bellow?

…Actually, what’s actually strange is swearing on my grandpa’s life though he’s long passed

Or giving a boy I didn’t care for a box of gross cognac chocolates as bday present

Fully knowing I continued the cycle of regifting and the chocolate will never be given a try 

I kind of feel it’s weird that folks say I’m doing great cause it’s more like I attempt to try

To try to be collected, never tardy, drink warm water in the morning and write

For an hour every day cause I got GOALS to be a writer, ya know, and represent

The Asians, the queers, the girls, the minority Asians, the yappers and those who choose the bear

And though I feel like a capital FAILURE most of the time, at least I can say I surpassed

The girl I used to be, ya know, the awkward misplaced weirdo who would rather lay low 

And let the homophobic teacher yap instead of standing up for fellow 

Queers. I’m still a weirdo but now I yap about culture, appropriation, murder trials,

Queer rights but I still feel guilty even though folks like my yapping and the lay-low-girl’s in the past 

I was told that it’s not that my horse is shitty but that with our blazed trails it’s hard to ride

A horse like mine and I wonder if I would choose a different horse to make the riding easier to bear 

If I could…you ever think about how the whole life thing’s like an email someone pre-sent

For you? It’s written but technically, you can edit except you don’t cause you say you’re “present” 

As in you’re okay with whatever’s in that email and you accept your fate so you peel yellow

Mango peelerz with your ass on the couch and wonder ‘bout the difference between “bear arms” and “bear’s arms” and you cheer when you catch a skittles with your mouth on the first try You turn on the tv and let your brain mush, anything to drown that fucking choir demanding rights 

And you get so caught up drowning and drowning that you don’t notice when it’s past 

Midnight but then you hug your teddy bear and plunge into the slimy low and wait for it to pass

You’re present, breathing, pacing your ass to break the slime and keep fighting for the right To be between the up, the down, the left, the right. You change out of your robe and sigh: “I’ll try”

Asyl Ospan is an interdisciplinary artist from Almaty, Kazakhstan. Her art stretches across multiple mediums, including but not limited to creative writing, dance, music, and theatre. She especially loves to create artwork reflective of her Kazakh heritage. Asyl’s work was recognized at the International Songwriting Competition 2021 and Scholastic Art & Writing Awards 2024. In her free time, Asyl likes to cook, make TikTok content about Kazakh culture, and learn phrases in different languages from her friends. She will graduate from Interlochen Arts Academy in May 2025.