Translucence By Maliha Jafri
You did not tell me those were teardrops That stained your eyes; you blamed dust And told me it was normal. I believed Your lie and then joked about things That made you laugh and forget For a moment, the terrible pain You carried inside so silently. I nearly guessed the truth once But your explanations were clever And so beautifully wrapped in evasions That I failed to understand things And did not probe deeper into the hardness Of your self-defense, and instead remained Comfortably gullible.
But if I only knew, would I have acted differently Or even changed the course of events completely? Maybe or maybe not, but who knows?
Time makes conjectures Such an easy and convenient exercise Like the poetry we read and write To seek explanations for the inexplicable in life. But I do know that, if nothing else, The flowers on this stone would have sung a different song Because you would be sleeping more peacefully.
Why? By Nicole Sharp
Why open my eyes? Why should I? Why would I want To give up a dark, quiet place And see the cold, cruel hatred That envelops our world? Tell me. Why give up my attainable dreams To meet your unattainable measurements? Why open my eyes When I all I will see Is blood, murder and rape? If I keep my eyes closed I won’t see this. It will all disappear with the next blink.
. . . nope, still there.
Now, what do I do with this degree? By Veronica Rocha
My skin is raw Aching for more. Satisfaction is incomparable Few understand this, Uneasiness in the soul, Anxiety from head to toes. The future never unfolds as planned The sensation is driving one mad. Several years of intellectual stimulation To be only replaced with An e-mail, fax dependency. Resume get accepted.
Past Experience By Lauren Robeson
Three years, almost to the day Weird how it still sneaks up on me, I never expected such an impact But who ever does?
Three years since Seattle, the State Hornet And all that those imply.
I swore to myself that I would be so much better at this When I was older, wiser When I had met other men and experienced much more And realized that you were not the ideal.
I told myself that in the next three, five, twenty years, I would Improve in ways that even I never dreamed of; And I have . . . until now, evidently. About to make the same mistakes, Though in a different, better situation, But it’s still far too close for comfort.
I’m learning to take new chances that The 18-year-old me would deem stupid, meaningless; But it is still progress.