Poetry Corner

The Horrors of Admission or Admission
Mashiyat Ahmed

You and I would be better off if we admitted things more often. 
We sit on creaking swing sets like oversized children or stumble
Through city streets, stopping mid-way to dance under milky skies, 
And as semantics evade us, your silence becomes my silence. 

In some way or another, we are all prisoners of some memory, 
Of some desire, some disappointment, some possibility, that 
Keeps us shackled under the weight of these silences 
Until it becomes our language, our glass ceiling.

You tell me, in between lungful whiffs of your cigarette smoke, that
You and I are free people, free lovers, free deciders, free creators. 
But we are just children, eyes wide and hearts’ hopeful by day, 
And swimming in seas of emptiness and silence by night.

You and I would be better off if we admitted things more often, 
Putting out deepest thoughts to words, we could puncture 
Through God’s glass ceiling, through the cosmic derision of the Universe, 
And for once, reach for something real. 

la belle verité
Vedika Awtani

your laughter sparkles when the conversation dims, 
i hear your voice when incessant screams swallow the silence, 
somehow you draw a vial of my affection to claim as your own, 
and at times, even the stars look at you and tell me that i am far from alone,

where others find you in the footnotes, 
i see you in the center of the page, 
where companionship for me was meant to be a fool’s hope, 
my soul finds yours with a need for camaraderie only you can assuage, 

and my rose-colored lenses shatter into pieces with ease, 
when tears threaten to escape from my eyes i can even find you in cherry blossom trees, 
you bring me peace.
if i fall into an abyss, i know you would rescue me at the very least, 

i find you in every shade of pink, 
i return to you when the waves wrap their arms around me and i am sinking, 
if friendship were a competition, i would say i am winning,
if only to have a best friend like you spend all my days with me.

Dana Al-Habash

To some it’s merely a roof over their head, 
to others it’s having family and friends.

Home is most familiar to your heart, 
after a long day in the outside world, 
your body, mind and soul yearn to be home. 

Some have found their home, 
others are still searching for it. 

I know my home, 
I see it, I hear it, 
I can’t go to it yet I feel it. 

I feel the gravitational pull between my heart and home. 
To return, to be welcomed, 
but my home is not home when occupiers mark the territory. 
Their existence depended on the cold blood of my family.

Every home has a scent, a flavour that reminds you of memories woven into its walls. 
I have yet to smell my home, it remains elusive. 
I cannot be reminded of any memories but I long for the day I wove them in. 

How can my heart long for the home that I’ve never been to, 
the home I’ve never smelled or touched? 

I tried to find a new home,
yet my heart was not convinced. 
No scent nor decor can resemble my home.
It is matchless, it is unique.

I want to go home but I can’t. 
So I patiently wait for the day I do, 
to return and meet its ancestors. 

To return and walk in its streets, 
smell the fresh bread, 
to be welcomed by the laughter of newfound relatives. 
To feel peace, to feel warm, cocooned in the embrace of a cozy quilt, 
infused with the aroma of liberation. 

To me this is home. 
Nowhere in the world, no roof, no country’s anthem 
can make up for the loss of my home, 
until I am able to return to the land that my heart yearns for. 
To return to the land that is constantly calling me back. 
The land that belongs to me and my people, it’s as simple as that. 

Associate Opinion Editor (Volume 50) — Mashiyat (”Mash”) is a second-year student completing a specialist in Neuroscience and a double minor in Biology and Professional Writing and Communications (PWC). As an associate opinion editor, she hopes to use her voice to encourage others to write freely and unabashedly about the things that mean most to them. In her free time, Mash can be found striking up conversations with strangers in the city, cooking for her family, and being anxious about her nebulous career plans!


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