Ebbing

Yash Wadwekar

Audio transcription:

Lights flickering, licking

Black rocks, I’m stumbling

Past thoughts and I sense

Waves ebbing I’m seven in second grade and

Reticent intelligence are pictures that I paint

It’s a picture that I made

It’s a picture that I hate

And now I’m the same.

I’m the same, I’m insane in my mind

In my prime I was sane so

Cracked mirrors gave me new facts:

To relax, rap’s winners have to dwell back I

Remember the winter

Sleet trickling

Sleep dwindling

Sweet linen and

Phineas, Ferb’s words, birds chirp

Cookie batter splattering, goodies flattering my yearns

Platypus chatter, I’m fatter, chattering in furs.

And all of it’s a blur.

Artist’s Statement

I wrote this verse at the beginning of quarantine when I was forced to invert a quiet lens onto myself. I reminisced on the innocence of my past and tried to find, critique, and converse with that identity through rap. I wanted this to be a raw, unfiltered look at my emotions, so I — painfully — set it aside and refused to revise it. I didn't want to touch the art that seemingly flowed through me in that crazy, fantastical jumble of emotions that was the beginning of domestic COVID-19. I hope you feel it when you listen.

 
 
 

about the writer

Yash Wadwekar is an emerging creative from Phoenix, Arizona. He is a 2021 National YoungArts Finalist in Writing (Spoken Word). He strives to use art for sociopolitical change.