People keep asking how I’m doing, but truthfully, I don’t know. So, let me ask you

How would you feel if you stood like me—
One foot in the East, one in the West,
One side sinking, the other at rest,
One too real, and one a dream,
A world split apart at the seam.

Could I hold the Earth and give it a shake—
Redistribute the power, the pain, the ache?
Could I stir the sky and make it rain
A justice that softens every stain?

It sounds childish, I know it well,
But what else to do in this living hell?
The holidays call with their glittering light,
While my people burn through endless night.

How can I celebrate? How can I cheer?
When the bombs still fall and the screams are near.
How do I stand in a space so wide,
When half of me aches and half must hide?

How would you feel if you watched the sky
Blush with flames while the world walked by?
If every meal was served with fear,
And each breath carried the weight of a tear?

Tell me, would you ask me still
How I feel, with words to fill?
Could you hold this mask I wear,
And feel the cracks beneath despair?

Two worlds collide, but you can’t see—
Between the West and the East lies an invisible line,
One paved with bright streets, the other entwined.
One sky is smoke, the other a spark,
A soul split between daylight and dark.

Two worlds clash in the space I breathe,
One stitched with privilege, the other to grieve.
One sky clear, the other scared,
A soul stretched thin, broken and scarred.

So ask me again how I feel today,
But know some things words can’t convey.
For between the West and the East I stand,
Holding the pieces in trembling hands.