"Yutu 2018" by Danielle P. Williams

Danielle P. Williams is a poet, essayist and spoken-word artist from Columbia, South Carolina. She is a third-year MFA candidate in poetry at George Mason University. She strives to give voice to unrepresented cultures, making it a point to expand on the narratives and experiences of her Black and Chamorro cultures. Her poems were selected for the 2020 Literary Award in Poetry from Ninth Letter. Her work appears in Hobart, Barren Magazine, The Pinch, JMWW, and elsewhere. For more, visit https://www.daniellepwilliams.com​

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Yutu 2018

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I
think
a lot
about
bodies
that aren’t
mine. Swells
of blue bullies
crashing into one
another, shadows
over neighbors homes
like an anxious reaper.
My Nana is a perfect example
of how us Chamorro are not easily
broken. The waves come and go and
we are always thankful for what reminds
us of the land our ancestors willed. This summer,
I finally learned what it feels like to know you can’t get
lost somewhere with only three roads. I wonder if anyone else
in the world knows that after Yutu hit Saipan my family went three
months without power. The ocean is a mighty mighty body, pulsing in the
pit of our design. Reef and rubble in our lungs. Why is it that we love things that hurt us?
I wonder if anyone else in the world knows we were born from water. It can never truly erase us.