I learned to bury myself in exams and exhaustion, in pink highlighters and black thoughts, in study guides and late nights, in straight As and tangled headphones. I learned everything I was supposed to be, and everything I wasn’t; I learned that I could live my best life and still see pieces of my worst.
The moon burned red in the deep, dark pool. The stars gazed down in awe as the maid strode down the ancient path, her fate engraved by law.
By Eliana Duran As the old lady sits in her wooden porch chair, She sews together a blue teddy bear. For years she’s sat in the shade of the birch, Sewing a bear for each baby at church. There aren’t any now, but there’s never been a drought. There isn’t much time...
Sometimes poetry stumbles. I think you can tell because of the way this began—not quite poetic, more like strings of consciousness tangled together like Christmas lights, the only exception being that I don’t like Christmas lights.