The Long Sigh

A Poem on Group Dynamics & An Invitation to Reflect

I’ve just finished a poem that has been a long time coming. It’s called “The Long Sigh for Bleak Group Dynamics,” and it lives at the intersection of observation, memory, and a hard-won kind of clarity.

The poem began in a specific group where exclusion played out in glances and unspoken rules—but as I wrote, it became about the universal human experience of the quiet mechanics of power, the weight of complicit silence, and the small violences carried out by the unspoken, sometimes unintended consensus. It's a pattern so often seen in groups. 

This poem is a way to publicly define the dynamic for anyone with eyes to see, to give others a mirror and a language for their own experience, and to give those who might be excluded an opportunity to change their roles to the one exposes the mechanism of exclusion. 

You can read the full poem here:

A Note on Form: 

In a deliberate act of craft, I chose to write each line in a strict nine-syllable structure. This self-imposed format makes this poem a unique container for the background emotion, a steady yet slightly chaotic heartbeat of the thoughts, and a metaphor for the content's suffocating nature. It is an integration of Mandarin and English poetry in its style, an unique creation of my trilingual, dyslexic, ADHD, visual information processing mind. It felt necessary to make the form itself as part of the truth being told. 

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Now, I’m extending an invitation to you, the reader.

This poem is my witness. But I wonder how its reflections land in the reality of your life.

When you read it, what echoes?

1. Do you recognize these dynamics? Have you felt the chill of a room that has quietly decided you don't belong? Or have you seen this play out from another seat?
   
   
2. If you have seen it, what role did you play? We are rarely just one thing. Have you been the one minced by a glance? The silent chorus member trading a voice for peace? The one, perhaps, wielding soft power to hide a dread? The exposer, letting a stark truth be known?
   
   
3. Looking back, is there a moment you wish you had done differently? A word you’d now speak, a silence you’d now break, or a hand you’d extend?

I invite you to sit with these questions. There is no judgment here, only my sincere curiosity about the complex humans we are in groups—families, workplaces, circles of friends, religious/spiritual congregations, or online communities.

If you feel moved to, please share your reflection in the comments below. To honor the vulnerability of this topic, I warmly welcome you to post anonymously if you prefer. Let this be a space for honest witness, just as the poem aimed to be.

Thank you for reading, and for bringing your own story to accompany these words.