RANI CREATIVE
EDITORIAL & POETRY
The 2020 Election: A Defense of Democracy
For many, November 3, 2020 was a day of change: democracy was on the ballot. It was a day that would forever be marked in the history books as a day when Americans went to the polls in record numbers to cast their ballots. Many braved brisk temperatures, long lines, and the risk of contracting the deadly COVID-19 virus in order to exercise their constitutional right...
dreams
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i learned at a young age
that i would have to keep my dreams a secret
years of listening to my friends fantasize
about white weddings and prince charmings
perfect homes with space to raise babies and
family photos on the wall
i had to pretend
that i wanted those things too
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i learned at a young age
that i couldn’t dream out loud
if marriage was only with a man
then maybe i didn’t want it after all
if family couldn’t mean two women
then maybe i wasn’t going to have one
as my friends boasted crushes and first kisses
i kept mine to myself
locking up my dreams
where i knew they’d be safe
learned at a young age
that people like me
don’t get love stories
we don’t get fairytales or love songs
we don’t get rom-coms or books to read
we don’t get tv shows or even commercials
people like us
don’t get happily ever after
maybe
all we get
is our dreams
Sidney Grimsley
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Sidney Grimsley (she/her) is from Kailua, Hawaii, and goes to school in Washington DC at George Washington University. As a gun violence prevention activist in DC, she is very passionate about the intersections of gun violence, women’s rights, the LGBTQ+ movement, and the BLM movement. She wrote this poem about how stagnant life has become this past year while the Earth shifts around us, very much alive and dynamic. We as a society have gone into a hibernation of sorts, which not only fosters growth but dredges up the ugliest aspects of society.
And So The Seasons Changes
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I waited
As ribbons of water threaded down the
The lush green tapestry
The mountains formed against the mist spun sky.
As the Earth woke up,
Fragile blossoms clinging to dew-studded branches, I fell asleep, letting vines
Wrap around my wrists
Like tendons of bracelets
The underbrush tangling around me
In an ornate coffin.
I waited
As the leaves formed a ceiling of
Amber stained glass,
A holy cathedral for my body
To rest
To return to dust
To sink into the Earth
Like it was made of silk and water.
And now I wait,
As the leaves fall away,
A carpet of corpses
Fragrant and sweet.
The trees stretch on like the great masts of ships,
Branches reaching towards the sky
like the twisted tines of forks.
Like broken fingers.
And, as the soft spring rain pierces the earth like needles, Will I continue to wait?
Or will I continue to sleep,
Buried in the earth,
Like a child in the womb?
On the Decline of the College Dream
One can only imagine my disdain when the dreams were nothing like I had pictured. When I’d found myself feeling a hollowness in my chest that could not be described, when I wasn’t achieving anything I thought I would. And man, I really just missed my mom’s cooking because, let’s be honest, cafeteria food has...
Yasamin Olyaei
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Love yourself in every shape that life will inevitably bend you. They are all temporary and you, well, you are the constant.
Your value isn’t defined by others’ expectations or standards.
It’s You who will define it.
​
Explore your body
Learn how you like to be touched and held
Learn what makes you feel loved, safe, and desired
Learn your sexual map
Know your moment of bliss
Communicate them with the person of your choosing
Someone who is equipped to honor them
Be present with yourself.
through happiness
and through pain
Your experiences will become less about external forces and more about how you move through them.
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Learn your maps
What makes you feel loved,
What makes you feel safe,
What makes you physically and mentally satisfied?
If you’ve nurtured that knowledge in yourself,
Loving and understanding others becomes a much less tortuous path.
You are sexual
You are sensual
Let your sexuality and sensuality grow in spaces where trust, respect, and affection are the foundation of your connection. Let there be longing for shared experiences, growth, and reflection.
Let it be someone who wants to be a witness to your existence.
Your soul is worthy of being seen.
Your mind is worthy of respect.
Your body is worthy of being loved.
There are only a few things in life that take away your humanity.
Rape is one of them.
It violates your personhood.
It unravels your identity.
A sensory assault well beyond our current professional vocabulary.
Your need to be valued, seen, and heard, are the basis of your humanity, they need to be honored, regardless of the phase of life you’re in, regardless of how it has weathered you.
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To accept your vulnerabilities is wisdom; to then love yourself is strength. To allow others to witness them,
That’s enlightenment.
Last night I dreamt I was painting abstract bodies; veins of white, yellow, red against a backdrop of subdued tones- I watched myself pouring paint on canvas, molding it as it dried. My eyes guiding my fingers through paint, still wet. Leaving chasms. Feeling the paint buildup under my fingernails, I hate the feeling, but it's home. I felt equally satisfied and dissatisfied. Somehow none of the paintings were done until they were undone. Isn't that the point of everything we do? We build ourselves up only to face moments that push us to the brink of failure, and if we survive, only when we are undone and still standing do we feel satisfied. We build ourselves and others, sometimes we build ourselves in others- a brilliant idea, no? the foundation has already failed before we begin. All of it fails, even the rock hard columns fail- sure, they might have stood for centuries, but never whole- bigger forces are working against them, or is it for them. I don't know. Which is the right direction? Maybe the salmon knows, a lifetime of swimming against the current.
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What does it mean to be whole and perfect? We are constantly in search of that perfection in ourselves. In others. In our work, in what others create, say, do. We critique imperfections, sometimes the ones we are incapable of seeing or understanding. We violate innocence in others, in objects, in nature, reaching for that moment of satisfaction, our perfection- leaving them undone- "build yourself up now, the way I'd like you to be," we say.
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My dreams are only a figment of what I hope I could be in reality. I dreamt of bravely violating an almost perfect existence I'd created-but; the truth is, I question the size of my fingers, how I am reaching for that canvas, what if it burns me, what if I ruin it- and worse, what if it amounts to nothing at all, what if it's reflecting an image of its creator and there is nothing worth seeing? And what if I repulse at its sight? The gods of life, the energies of what is and isn't are laughing, you fool; there is no perfection, there is you, and then there is them - just feel with eyes open, take it in, breath- you're a microscopic glitch in this divine existence- enjoy your moment, for it will leave you gasping for air if you miss it, and you will miss most of it. And then you'll be without breath, like the bodies you used cut up in the name of learning, the only remnant of life you truly lived nestled deep in your brain - for no one to see. But before that moment, you sit. Allowing air through what is left - holding on to elbows and knees.