Compose

In the wrestling match, my knees buckled, 
A staccato burst of defeat, 
Feeling out of control, angry, a cacophony. 
But then, ukulele strings under my fingers, 
Offered a universe I commanded, 
Composed of these memories. 

In third grade, I trapped a caterpillar, watched it transform, 
Its wings unfolded, maroon in the sunlight, 
Debuting away beyond my reach. 
I couldn’t control where it flew, 
But I could control letting it go gracefully. 
Let’s gently put in a brisk tremolo here. 

In middle school, my friend faced assault  
By a bully who was being dissonant. 
After I pinned him with precision, he left us alone. 
I couldn’t control other people, 
But I could control my boundaries. 
Let’s interject a firm barre chord here with plucked strings, 

Mom's "I love you," once a confident forte, 
Now a fading chirp outside my door. 
I couldn’t control my mom’s collapsing strength, 
But I could control my echo back, “Sah-rang hae (Love you).” 
Let’s strum some percussion here against the quiet. 

No dinner that night; the cupboards were sparse;  
Soy sauce and garlic percussed with tofu in the pan. 
I couldn’t control my mom’s illness, 
But I could control making the most of the ingredients. 
Let’s insert a smooth legato between a G and A here. 

My mom vomited blood staccato into the sink. 
Frightened, I prayed to God, that she will heal. 
Despite my longing, I couldn’t control her health, 
But I could control my faith. 
Let’s slide up to a higher pitch here. 

I got word she will not come back for a while. 
Distressed, I wrote a note to her each day. 
I couldn’t control her journey’s flight, 
But I could control loving her gracefully. 
Let’s place a … key change here, though wet with tears. 

I cannot command when she will return, 
But I will compose my Sah-rang refrain. 
It will live on my ukulele, 
And on the day of her return, we will strum what we can control,  
Uplifting each other on the things we cannot.