After several failed attempts to complete a post, I allowed myself to be silent for a while. Out of that silence came a poem and the idea for this post.
My father, Arthur Shigeru Mayeno, found his voice when he wrote about being incarcerated by the US government during World War II. His entire family and community were imprisoned for three years, without regard for the Constitution. Their only “crime” was their Japanese ancestry. For 953 nights, between the ages of 15 and 18, he listened intently to the radio from his family’s one-room barrack. He hoped to hear that their imprisonment was a mistake and that they could go home. He also wrote: “At least I hoped some civil rights group or somebody would stand up to say the evacuation and the imprisonment of Japanese-Americans was wrong. Every night I was disappointed.” The lesson I took from his words:
When we face injustice, we need to know we’re not alone. We need to know that someone, somewhere is speaking out.
My father later learned that many people were speaking out, but the media had not allowed their voices to be heard. I’m proud to say that many Japanese-Americans, including my family members, see connections between our history and what’s happening today and are speaking out.
The lesson from my father will not let me stay silent for long. I wrote this poem in anticipation of Mother’s Day. I’m the mother of an adult who is proudly nonbinary, in spite of executive orders and other efforts to erase their existence. I’ve never learned “how” to write a poem, and it’s scary to share. I couldn’t have done it without the encouragement of people around me, who helped me push past imposter syndrome and do it anyway. Here goes:
I wish for a world where any child can grow butterfly wings and fly,
and anyone can be a princess or an athlete, or anything that calls,
where no one is pushed into boxes, or cages, or force fed scripts to live by,
and you are free to write your own lines,
where anyone can read a book and know they belong,
and no one needs to be told you are human, because this is assumed,
where you don’t have to watch your back, because there’s no target on it,
where governments are here to serve, not snatch away those you love,
where children look up and see blue sky, not smoke and bombs,
where the news is not a horror show, but a celebration,
where God(s) is love, not a weapon,
where the planet that’s home is tended with love,
and I can rest when my time comes, trusting you can live on.
-Laurin Mayeno, Mothers Day, 2025
If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading! If the poem speaks to you, and you’d like to share it with others, please download it at this link, or share the entire post :).
When I sent poem to a friend, they said it came at a time when they really needed it. They were about to testify against a trans sports ban, with testimony written by their young trans daughter. I was incredibly inspired and humbled. They were using their voices in a high-stakes situation, and daring to be visible. My take-away from our text exchange is this:
Find a way to express what’s on your heart and mind. You may never know who needs to hear it.
If you, like me, have had trouble finding your voice, I hope you are able to take some space for silence. I hope you keep listening for whatever it is inside of you that needs to be expressed. And, I hope you find a way to let it out, as perfectly imperfect as it may be.
