when we’re born, where do we go?
by Trini Feng
god was born a bawling baby too,
kicking at the heels of their creator, like something wild,
something fierce, a beast defanged but believing
they could bite, crying for their too-large soul in
their too-small body, weeping
for what could change and mourning what could not.
i was born, ostensibly. i live hopefully, like life
is a game i can play, lose, play again, lose again. i live humbly,
as though i couldn’t care about what lies on earth.
i live not happily but not unhappily,
loving the world, loathing the world,
wishing for a new word that is lovehatejoyrage
that i can slip through my tongue.
no waiting. no explanation. let it stand by itself
so i can let it be and unchain myself from this
world, unconcerned for it, as it is for me.
god grew up, and i may not yet.
god, small, reaches for the sky and wishes. then, god grows. god, now,
reaches for the sky because they cannot find it.
i reach with them, extend my hand,
and whether our fingers touch—
well, that is if either of us exist.
Trini Feng is a high school junior. Born and raised in the quiet suburbs of Illinois, she likes to explore both mundane and speculative stories in her writing. Particularly, she loves writing about people, namely their interactions with each other and their world. Her work has previously been published in The WEIGHT Journal, Bluefire, and Ice Lolly Review, among others. In her free time, she dabbles in music, video games, and coding.