Saturday, March 25, 2017

Rumination

a channel in the mind, specifically carved out
for thoughts to flow with ease, for them to tickle a
soul, make them question something they'd never
doubt. whirlwinds, leaves struggling to hold on to
branches, gusts swirling, uprooting trees and
letting rumination run wild. howling emerging
from shady hollows, whispers embedded, soft
croons, invisible yet possible to detect. skies
that darken in hue, morphing from golden to stormy
purple, clouds that hang lower, threatening to strike
lightning and burn the ground, ignite the green into
a fiery red. threatening to roar thunder, until its
bellow coalesces with the howls, deafening,

incapacitating.

Friday, March 17, 2017

Zlata's Diary

Zlata’s Diary is a book by Zlata Filipović; it was written by young Filipović, during the Bosnian War. Although Zlata’s Diary is often overshadowed by The Diary of a Young Girl (by Anne Frank), I believe that it is just as powerful in conveying the horrors of war and ethnic conflict. Zlata is currently 36 years old.


innocent, a drop of water in an
ocean of tar.      ensnared, vulnerable in
fear yet powerful on parchment, ink flooding
the crevices, molecules of darkness slithering
across a page, bringing light to an era

of misery. write what scares you, goes the
old motif.

write what makes your curls stand, what makes
your eyes dilate and freckles tremble. easy for
them to say when their greatest dread isn't
being crushed under mountains of cement
and hurt, praying
that someone will find them and bring them
back to life.

innocence swirls, a drift of chocolate in
a cup of coffee. you infused so much beauty
into a world that craved it, into a society
starved of positivity and delight. an alternate,
youthful perspective glimmers in your voice, a
perspective often forgotten because bombs are
louder than the cries of children. you are too

profound, too deep for a person of your size, you
showed us that privations can destroy innocence
within minutes. how discussions of fun can morph
into contemplations of life – only by turning a few
pages, feeling the air whisper as the written words
dance to our ears, caress our eyes. your power, nestled
in your diary, will never fade.

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