One morning after begging for my food— looking down at one more meal I hadn’t worked for, hadn’t paid for, hadn’t earned.

A life of debts I could never repay pushing in on all sides like the weight of the sea.

I blinked, and a tear fell into my bowl.

Would it always feel like this?

Just as the moon rises up from the bottom of the sea, handful of rice lifted itself from the bottom of my bowl.

And my heart rose with it. I wish I could tell you how it tasted—

that first bite of food as a free woman.