Through the window,
I see
An Asian grandparent, parent, sibling,
Human,
Pushed,
And slashed,
And robbed,
And pushed,
And robbed,
And-
And I know other people are seeing it, too,
But they are only seeing,
And nothing is being done.
Red fills the streets as Lunar New Year rolls around,
Red fills the streets to form statistics and charts that cloud my window,
Jagged like the heart rate monitors
Of our grandparents,
Our parents,
Our siblings,
Who may never see outside their windows again.
Toppled so carelessly like dominoes,
If dominoes fell flat.
The nth-generation immigrants tell us,
To go back to our countries.
They call us,
The virus.
The bat-eaters.
I wish to close the curtains;
I do not wish to see.
I do not wish to see.
I cannot bear to see.
But the fire pierces through the windows,
And soon enough I will suffocate inside
This room,
This America.
All I can do
Is fight
And one day,
Open the windows
To a better America,
And breathe.
