Dina Zheng
A senior at Aragon High School, Dina hopes to graduate high school as a mature writer who captures powerful feelings through words. Ever since Dina was little, she has loved reading tales of fantasy and truth that hint at philosophy and that gave her a sense of empowerment and a new perspective on life. Writing has become integral to her connection with others, especially poetry and memoir, her favorite types of writing. Dina tends to write about overarching issues in society that deserve more discussion, and about her family. One quirky fact about Dina is that she has a burning love for ketchup, which she sometimes drinks if she is incredibly hungry and doesn't have any food handy.
Our Nest
We share a connection
Untouchable and intangible
Our difference is our bridge
Inexplicable but so realizable
The steel bridges in this nation
Hereby consecrate a holy nest
Of connections, strangled cries,
dusty remembrances, and bloodshot eyes.
Oh, precious nest of connections
Blood, sweat, and tears in the recollections
For those who struggled for this sanctuary
I’m so sorry for now it’s a penitentiary.
Our dear Mother of our nest,
armed and hard- eyed with hungry talons
who drinks tears and feasts only on the oppressed,
Spilling blood by the gallons,
unfazed.
Timeless steel bridges are alive and clank like shackles
Judgement haunts, whispering with a cackle.
Steel, to bronze, to ashes, then gone,
Not without branding you with a kiss from Babylon.
Mother eagle sings with snapping singed branches
Your identity rejected and bridges fermented
You cry in your demise
As you see Mother has snake eyes.
and
The newly crowned mother bird sings
Let’s make America great again.
Ditto
Like the mountain terrain of rigid soil, the seams of fabric link their charred arms tight. Familiar to the touch of blade to skin, two dark burns form the eyes of the kind creature. A worm of metal crawled through and poked its head from the two holes and witnessed the surgery. The long drag of blade left behind a tight awkward smile and together with the eyes, they form a Ditto. One that can become and is everything. When I’m lying on my side, you’ll see it gaily staring at you.
When I’m lying on the sofa in a distorted figure, you may find it smiling and frowning at you.
