Wellbeing Blog

Actual: A Poem


I’m actual now.

With that, a Time’s magazine lifts out

with my face on its cover. It floats up above,

and something tells me to look no further.

With that, I’m lighter.

The drills have left my entrails.


I’m actual now.

Past failures drop

and perspective feels like universe’s space.

I sieve through,

keep the shame that nurtures. Light.

Failure always whirling, ready at the cuff; I let it beam out my eyes

so it finds its likeness, until that cicada shell drifts for both of us.

That’s success.


You’re in me as much as I’m in you,

so I give up and listen. If God has secrets, they’re between us.  


— Alfred Wu