American Abyss
I followed here the heart
I built for you. Here it is, blue
as the preening peacock’s crest, bruise
renewed again and again. Blue as
children made vapor, families ground
to grist raining on the accordion
chest of the sea. I followed here my own
forgetting of the fireflies that blink
like prayers in belligerent grasses; my
dreams of mattering, as in, appearing—
a noun in your syntax. That stone
you strike for water. Is this not
the Dream? To take more than
bodies have to give, then eat without
discord? I want you to know I have
always understood my place. That
the only feeling more beautiful than
your fear is your want. Look,
how your flowers light the world.
Copyright © 2025 by Cynthia Dewi Oka. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on April 15, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets.
“This poem is born from my struggle with how we have, as a nation, normalized genocide as policy. I was compelled to take responsibility for the part of myself that knows intimately the cost of the ‘American Dream,’ and yet, still strove to be a part of it. My own family are survivors of a U.S.-supported genocide in Indonesia that ensured access for Western corporations to her resources. Writing this poem gave me permission to build a new foundation for my life with the wisdom of Mother Earth, the vision of divine guides, and the faith of my ancestors.”
—Cynthia Dewi Oka
Cynthia Dewi Oka
