When I die, bury me among my ancestors.
Bury me where the connection was severed in hopes that my decomposing body provides the necessary branches to reach out to them. That as my body rots and turns to its beginning that I must feel once more the warmth of them in my hand. That as I lay to waste and my nails grow that those unkind moments be the bridge back home. Through death alone will I ever be able to step foot on that lost house, because death is the true provider. It provides solace, finality, and in my case; my home. Lay me down near where my mother and my mother’s mother and her mother took their last breath, so that the femininity of the Bangura line can once again braid hair while the days go on.
I once wanted my body to turn to ashes and blow around in the air, but In death do I want a repeat of my life? Do I want to seal my fate as the repetition of the former? Do I want to forever be bound to the circling of the wind storms across the lands of people not my own?
Now I want that connection, that tree root growing despite the leaves. For there’s something beautiful about the juices that will come out of my pruned body. How it will become the sustenance for others on this land. And in that final act, I become one of the ancestors. Providing life for those who carry on much longer than I will. Hopefully they let the lost girl back into the house; for she will return, sad, carrying the vessel of her absence.
“When I Die” by Elisha Christensen
A Performance of her poetry at Black Student Union’s Heart N Soul Case 2025. There she read an original, yet unfinished, short story titled Unitled.
Attending University wasn’t always on my mind, and so when I stepped onto the UCSB campus as an incoming freshman, I had no idea where my educational journey would lead me.
I remember seeing a post about the Vision Fellowship, and that’s when my dreaming started. Over the next 3 years, I dreamt of applying, choosing to forgo another year and another because of a busy schedule, or not having the right idea. After having the worst and tumultuous third year ever, an experience I can only chalk up to my Capricorn stellium, I was determined to transcend my inhibitions and make my dreams come true. Originally, I had thought of using this as an avenue to push my poems about identity to the front. Still, after consideration and a short internship at a museum, I realized that I had wanted to create space for other adopted students to share their poetry and stories.
Being adopted is an interesting and hard experience. There are so many traumas that accompany it, so many questions and disappointments that you will have to deal with. When it comes to culture, it can be more challenging. Growing up, I had constant thoughts about my positionality within this world. Am I Black-American, enough. Am I Sierra Leonean, enough. Am I Black, enough. These questions will continue to rumble over and over across my consciousness and it may never stop, but it is nothing foreign to an adopted person.
I come from a transracial, international adoption background. This impacts the way I view and engage with my culture and others. In creating this project, I reflected upon my own experiences being Sierra Leonean on campus. I felt a sense of loneliness in representing my culture and multi-cultural background, seeing others celebrate their cultures with their communities and that outward expression is something that I have been denied in my life. My experience from childhood to now has been me standing alone in my experiences. There’s a sense of detachment to my culture, as explored in my poetry, but I have been able to find.
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I like to imagine myself floating in space; I had been tethered to a different planet, but due to circumstances, I am stuck in the in between, not able to come closer to either planet I hail from. At first the drifting was lonely—I never felt like I was allowed to be drawn to places. But, overtime I have come to enjoy this solace. It allows me to have a unique perspective on the universe, it allows me to be closer to the stars and to my dreams.
I encourage all to read through these poems and delve into the experiences of loneliness, adoptedness, the complicated relationship with culture and oneself, and the creativity of all the artists featured.