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.