Convenience Store, Seoul
Convenience Store, SeouL BY JULIE HEMING The polar bear robot at the register beckons me closer. It’s 10 pm and I can’t sleep, my body still dragging itself across time zones. So I’m here: cradling a matcha ice cream bar and a soggy 5000 won bill, wondering how I’m supposed to pay.
Eyes in the Trees
Eyes in the trees BY SANDI SMITH The cherry tree knows me. As a child, it shuddered and swayed outside my bedroom window. In the daylight it whispered to me, “Climb into my branches, child. Climb to the heavens. Here is your freedom. Come and look.” I often climbed in her loving arms. Arms that felt familiar and comforting. These were not the hard branches of a tree, but the warm embrace of a mother my soul longed to feel.
Open Heart Terrified Spirit Searching Aimlessly
Open Heart Terrified Spirit Searching Aimlessly BY DANIELLE ORR Open is a feeling within my soul. Closed was how they wanted me to live. I learned both languages and speak them both badly. I wanted to be free and alive and full of love. They wanted me to be quiet and reserved and damaged. I feel called to the sea, the beaches and cliffs. Like a bird, I sail on
Gotcha Day, A Cautionary Tale
GOTCHA DAY,A CAUTIONARY TALE BY ROBERTA HOLLAND Once upon a time, in a land not far enough away, excited mommies and daddies waited anxiously, giant butterfly nets in hand. Their eyes looked upward to the heavens, where big babies, tiny babies, pink babies, green babies parachuted from the sky. The babies floated down, down, close to the ground. The mommies and daddies swung their nets with all their might. Thwack!!
Lost No More
Lost No More BY “FORMERLY COCCO” Hey Young Me What Is Wrong?Can’t Stop Crying Mother Is GoneWho Are You? Your Older SelfWhat You Want? Repair Your HealthI’m Feeling Lonely A Bit Different TooFeel Your Pain I Felt It TooYou Can Heal That I KnowYou Will
Love and Drugs
Love and Drugs BY KC CRANDALL I got a message on Facebook from my birthfather the other day Well, a few— More of a missive than a DM Thick enough it’d take at least two stamps to mail from San Pedro to Boston. But you can’t fit a lifetime of catching up in an envelope Hey Tiger Eyes, he started, before the first guidance he ever gave me: I got
It Always Comes Back to You
It Always Comes Back to You BY REBECCA CHEEK My life started in your womb. Nestled in the warmth of your protective cocoon. Likely the last true protection I’ve known. My entrance into the world marked by relinquishment, by separation,by half-truths. My adoption story beganwith your choice and a case number: 85-359/HJJ.Identity simplified by a series of numbers and letters. My adoption story brokewith severed ties to my adoptive family. I was chosen as an infantwithout your full
Double-Adoptee Indeterminacy
Double-Adoptee Indeterminacy BY JULIAN WASHIO-COLLETTE Quantum indeterminacy—the fundamental condition of existence, supported by all empirical evidence, in which an isolated quantum system, such as a free electron, does not possess fixed properties until observed in experiments designed to measure those properties. That is, a particle does not have a specific mass, or position, or velocity, or spin, until those properties are measured. Indeed, in a strict sense the particle does not exist until observed.
Indestructible
Indestructible BY SHAE LEE Nine months to form, nine more to be left. Alone with her then alone with myself. She was abandoned before I arrived, original mother and I linked in genesis by shitty luck and feminine grit. I am their heir. I bear their truth too – man won’t dig in under the fun. No protection, no safety nothing of substance to grieve except for this gaping man-shaped
Heirloom
Heirloom BY VANESSA When I was growing up on the farm, there was not much time for reading except at school or church. During summers, I would get to ride the church bus to Bible school. Tucked away in the trees down a back road sat our white one-room church. It was too small to hold everyone, so Vacation Bible School was held outside, which was fun. Craft tables were lined in rows along the creek, the dreaded Bible-reading group situated away from all the activities.
Accept
ACCEPT BY AUDREY B What if I could accept myself? Such a simple task. Innocent asker, can someone be related to disaster? Who am I? Today’s answer has journeyed so far. Birth’s firsts, hours, a lifetime from where you are. What if I could just accept? Can you tell me how you got your scars? Am I being polite, Do you feel fight? Here together. We arrived. Lost, beautifully left.
The Colors of My Adoption
The Colors of My Adoption BY AKARA SKYE Soft Pink: The color of the societal politeness of adoption. A newborn baby with a blank slate, to shape and mold, and to grow up to look “just like her mother.” I was a baby girl, described in pink perfection. My demeanor is sweet like strawberry lemonade, skin soft like cotton candy, eyes sparkling like pink champagne. I was delivered to the doorstep by a glorious feathered pink stork, a cute pink bow taped to my head.
Discount Pepper Spray
Discount Pepper Spray BY CYNTHIA LANDESBERG Costco is my husband’s love language. In an effort to subdue my anxiety around the continued violence against Asian Americans, he walks along the graphite-colored floors with his oversized shopping cart, choosing oversized tokens of love. Rotund cans of hazelnut pirouette wafers to pair with my daily cup of tea, a bag of flour larger than me to satisfy my lustful consumption of the Great British Baking Show, and, last year, a two-pack of pepper spray.
Salmon
Salmon BY ELIZABETH BLAKE Salmon Do not grow up with their mothers or fathers, only companion salmon spirits,yet they find their way back to the place where love of life made them. As tiny fish, they swim with relatives,wash down creeks to the vast salty sea.Do they know their family when they see them? Would they recognize their parents by the shape of their mouth,twist of a tail,or the knowing look in their iridescent eyes?
LETTER FROM THE FACILITATORS
What a delight it is to unveil our seventh issue of the Adoptee Voices e-Zine, featuring the poetry and prose of 14 adoptee-writers.
When I read the submissions for this issue, what stood out most was what a maze this journey called life can be for us as adoptees. We are truly walking through a labyrinth as we stretch and grow, seeking to make meaning out of our life’s experiences and to find or reclaim our identities. While we may not always see what lies around the twists and turns, we persevere on a path toward greater understanding and healing. I thank each of these writers for their vulnerability in giving us a window into their labyrinthine journeys through sharing their powerful words and glimpses into their hearts.
My sincere hope is that as you see these adoptees honor their voices, it inspires you to listen and honor your voice, too.
-Sara with Alice, Jennifer, Kate, Ridghaus