i, seated at the right hand, mother still at the grave

for let my death not be in vain

hollow melodies of appraisal, an unfamiliar craze

elegies of exasperated mourning

who i was, who i am, who i’m meant to be.

for let currents stop upon the news

grieve quietly to death, to a thirsty drought

wisteria rung dry to a fable of what it once was

so, mourn so tragically it pleases me so.

rebirth my bare feet grown to carry silk gowns

and crowns placed upon my grave

for let words alas find their worth

so dandelion will spring on a skull-shaped hill

with my name engrained in grandeur.

Myriam Alcala (they/them) is a junior in the Journalism and Creative Writing majors. Alcala is a previously published writer for the Denver Post and Daily Trojan and now is a USC editor at Annenberg Media. Their poetry is inspired by nature and the rollercoaster of emotions surrounding being a young adult pulling from personal experience.

You can follow Myriam on Instagram here.