Feeling Sick Poem by Natasa To

In the beginning, a time to see sunlight from the temples.
Suffering and it summoned a feeling lost,
yes, I was sick. Made without worry as the tulips
. Rose like a myth. Loud clamor, who will translate
therein was the poems. my confessional self.
radiant with need, I watch my sisters
—Patricia, Lisa, Julie—
you as I was seek: days call for the flowers, my darling. of emaciated retinas, a soft sight.
Myself optimism—chic.
Work towards intention.
Oh, my darling, my great sunshine
I recover soon by the care of my doctors