Beyond the Cocoon Poetry Contest

And the winners are...










​1st place, Thilini Weerakkody 
@dressed_up_tortellini
Poem:  Sunshine

Growing up, the mothers in my neighborhood called me, “Sunshine”
Cooing about the unrelenting brightness of my smile
So, I dawned toothy grin like it was a promise
Until I forgot what it was like to look black and cloudy
--Until I forgot that I could even be those shades

The poets say that light cannot exist without dark.
That the sun inevitably brings shadows to the earth
But I didn’t know how to honor all the hues within me.
The world only applauded the parts of me that gleamed.

The wicked always believe they are daylight.
People incapable of seeing their shadows, become them.
It’s terrifying that so many eclipses think they are blazing, honey suns.
So blinded by their own radiance, they can’t see their humanity.

I don’t know how to hold my darkness without becoming the night sky.
But I refuse to become another fool who believes they are all light.

---

2nd place, Scarlet Gomez, creator of BX Poetry House
@loosetoothpoetry
Poem:  daughter of Judas

she had been hosting a cocktail hour.
the court, whose words once wallowed
my quivering hands, quieted as my heels
counted the guests, the quartzite cobbles,
the daggers in their disdain and the
haughtiness. their drunken whispers offered her
the words for my humiliation. I realize in the stillness
between what god made me and what the world
did with me that this had been what she
called me for. to decide my fate
before the congregation. to unbless my heart.
I am no longer a sweet child. no longer
a love. she named me
an animal rebel who tics the curtains
of any room I walk past. a threat to the order.
I would be next in the corn fields, a cautionary
tale for her daughters. love prophets who
hold no fear for an island subdued
die for what they say but I was never that.
I am a poet. eternalized in penned vowels,
I am as enduring as a god. so vital I could
not disappear without the world knowing
I am missing. so she is afraid of me. she beckons
her serpent, a smirked creature who
allows me to survey his silver and offers
communion. cassava and cabernet to compel
clemency for the way they will debase me
all in God’s name
I take this crown of thorns and water the plants
before the crucifix with my blood.
I lay with death as I would a lover. all in God’s name,
I give my body to what devours me
only to roll out of the serpent’s
mouth with a voice that carries no expiration.
A perennial egg.
A new bible. A true god.

3rd place, Kayla Dudley
​@kaytheepoet
Poem: Becoming

I stand at the edge of who I was,
a girl shaped by whispers and wounds,
taught to shrink beneath the weight of the world,
to blend into the shadows where they wouldn’t look.
but I am more than silence--
more than the names they gave me,
more than the skin they fear yet envy.
each day, I shed a piece of their expectations,
peeling back the layers of too much,
too bold, too loud, too black, too woman.
my hair grows like protest,
twisting and turning toward the sun,
refusing to be tamed.
my voice rises like a hymn,
untangling centuries of no,
and weaving them into a single, defiant yes.
i walks through a world that demands my erasure,
yet I leave traces wherever I go–
footprints of resilience on broken glass,
poems carved into the marrow of my bones.
i am the storm and the stillness,
the rage and the healing,
the daughter of survivors who learned to thrive.
they call me too much,
but I am not enough for their boxes,
too vast for their cages,
too bright for their dull gaze.
i am becoming--
A revolution in flesh and spirit,
a black woman unfurling her wings,
ready to soar beyond their reach.

Honorable Mention, Karina Guardiola-Lopez 
@kglopez_​
Poem:  This Mirror

Reflects a Gordian knot,
SWOT analysis of self--
acne scars, hooded eyelids, dark brown eyes,
and a beige champagne hue.
These dry blond split ends tell a story,
the grays on my scalp tell another.
These gestures and mannerisms aren’t mine;
I wear my abuela’s face,
these lips are my father’s frown,
the lines and creases around my eyes
are my great-grandparents; travels.
I see my mother,
I see God,
I see my lineage in veins,
the lines in my palms--
a tree that continues to transform and transition.
The roots are multicultural,
the fruits are multilingual.
I  am multifaceted and multidimensional.
This mirror, reflecting a Gordian knot--
​is my ancestors; wildest dreams.