HOW DID YOU COME TO POETRY?

My journey with poetry is a bit convoluted. I first started writing at a very young age - I wrote a musical for my class to perform at the winter pageant in second grade - but I abandoned it for a long time. I was very depressed throughout middle school, and my poetry reflected that, and after a while, I gave it up. I continued writing but no longer took it seriously or believed my poetry had any potential. It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school that I started writing seriously again. That “second coming” of my creative ability happened because my English teacher that year had us read Diving into the Wreck by Adrienne Rich, and something clicked. I wrote a poem inspired by it, which I sent to my teacher, who encouraged me to submit it and another poem to the Fresh Voices Contest run by the Hill-Stead Museum. When I won that contest, and my poems were published by the museum, I once again had faith that my writing could touch people. I haven’t stopped writing since.

HOW HAS YOUR RACIAL AND CULTURAL IDENTITY IMPACTED YOUR WRITING JOURNEY?

My racial and cultural identity is something I’ve grappled with a lot throughout my life, especially as a queer Indian-American. I’ve always felt isolated from the Indian-American community because of my queerness and from the queer community because of my brownness. I’ve used poetry a lot to try and understand my feelings about that rejection and how to deal with it. Looking at my poetry over time, you can see that journey from rejecting my racial and cultural identity as a whole to gradually accepting and celebrating it. I’ve used poetry as a way to carve a niche for myself where I am queer and Indian, and that’s okay.

WHAT IS THE BEST PIECE OF WRITING ADVICE YOU’VE EVER RECEIVED?

The best piece of writing advice I’ve ever received is actually a piece of editing advice. I took a poetry class in July 2022 taught by Leslie Sainz. In that class, she told us that when we were stuck while editing a poem, to read the whole thing, put the poem away, and rewrite it from memory. The important stuff is what you’ll remember, and you can get rid of the stuff you don’t remember. That advice has been invaluable because editing has always been far harder than writing for me.

I HEAR THE CALL OF THE SEA (GOD)

By Valli Pendyala

if there was ever a god i believed in, it is the sea.
kneeling on soft sands brings solace
to prayer not seen on the hard marble cage
of the temple: its doors remain closed to me still.

kneeling on soft sands brings solace
to a mind absent faith, & belief
of the temple ( its doors remain closed to me still )
is not necessary when waves crash & recede, a visible power

to a mind absent faith & belief
kinship to god is hard-fought, never easy,
not necessary when power crashes & recedes. visible
to me alone is the glory of god in this wine-dark sea.

kinship is hard. i fought, never easy, but
i left the temple. in this monastery-of-the-sea god is close
to me alone. is the glory of god in this wine-dark sea?
when odysseus sailed, did he learn to love what tore him apart?

i left. in the temple, this monastery-of-the-sea, god is. close
enough to touch, to bathe, to be one with.
when odysseus sailed, he too learned to love what tore him apart.
once, to blame for shipwrecks, now, i see. god is not a lighthouse.

it is enough to touch, to bathe, to be one with.
my prayers will not be seen sinking into a hard marble cage.
driving my ship into the sea, ignoring the lighthouse directing me
if there was ever a god i believed in, it is the sea.