Pegasus Literary Magazine 2024

i would offer you this:

half smile,

half joke,

half                                          heart 

half   - life.

i would give you 

half a clementine.

Dark is the night comrade,

At the gates of Berlin,

Nearly two and a half million men,

Victory against the fascist snake!

Raz!

Dva!

Tree!

Into the fray comrade!

Rifles are hot with action,

Cover is a coolant we cannot afford,

The enemy cannot escape!

Raz!

Dva!

Tree!

Action again comrade!

For two weeks love has shielded us,

We cannot stop now,

The Fürher is dead!

Raz!

Dva!

Tree!

Only 2 days ago I praised our good fortune,

But it seems to have ended,

What will I tell the widow?

The Reich has fallen!

Raz!

Dva!

Tree!

Pizdetz comrade!

How can I leave you here,

Sleeping under a plywood star?

Cargo 200 . . . 

Raz!

Dva!

Tree!

War is over comrade,

And yet in my soul I cannot find peace,

I must envy you in this manner.

Take your trench coat - let’s go home.

Raz!

Dva!

Tree!

For you comrade,

We will stay strong,

Take my trench coat,

I cannot find home.

Context: The Soviet people had been fighting the Reich for 4 years and lost nearly 20,000,000 lives.  Cargo 200 was the military code for corpses returning from the front. A “plywood star” is a reference to the caskets of the USSR, which had a wooden star on the front. Raz, Dva, Tree means 1, 2, 3 in Russian.  This poem is to remember all who fought for the end of Fascism.

my father’s anger is built up inside of me

my mother’s hazel eyes glare at your hungry fist 

my father’s lack of patience seethes through my tears

my mother’s black curls caress your mercurial palm

your simmering voice reverberates through me

my father’s petulant words become delicate

my mother’s smile glistens through your sorries.

Let's be honest, loss sucks. Whether you lost your favorite pair of earrings, a pet, or a person you cared deeply for, it still hurts. I was 13 and a half when they died, and I was devastated. 

I had no words for it. It was a shock not only to me or my mom but to the world itself. People hugged us, cried with us, and gave us gifts of remorse. Flowers, chocolate, and sympathy cards were all over the place. I couldn't escape the reality that they were dead. 

I  lived with them all my life, and whenever my mom was busy working, or my dad wasn't around, I adopted them. They would call out: Want to go to the park, Bid? or Yes, Pen, I'll take her to the doctor at 2. and Bid, what do you want for dinner tonight? I swear they cared about the world more than themselves. They always cared for me, for us, and they deserved to be taken care of in return. 

I miss them like hell and sometimes wonder why them. I know life is unfair, but I didn't realize it was this unfair. They had problems as everyone else did and fought, but they still loved and cared for each other. Love is a strong word, so is soulmate. 

You cannot tell me they weren't soulmates. You cannot tell me we weren’t soulmates, the four of us. We were the four signs ( water, fire, air, and earth). So,  we were perfect together. I like to think they are both somewhere else waiting for me and my mom. We had with each other that couldn't be broken. Not even different dimensions could break it. 

I miss them, but I have promised I will continue to live on not only honoring them but also sharing the love they gave me with the world. I love baking like my grandmother and helping others like my grandfather. I will make this world a little bit better, like both of them.

Even if your family isn't close, you might have friends you consider family or even furry friends you love. If you have yourself, that's okay, too. You are such a strong person that you can create love wherever you want in life; whether in a family or not. 

- Anonymous 

People come, people go 

They're only here for the show.

They either make you glow or drain.

They put you in pain and make your face rain.

Every time you show interest, they seem to pull away. 

So often you say that's a typical day. 

I’m not saying lose hope

You just need to learn how to cope. 

Whether it's writing or hiding, still keep on fighting. 

Maybe it's blocking the accounts that aren’t inviting, 

The ones, after finding, that make your eyes wet and sleepy.

You know they’re not good, yet you never want an answer so meekly.

I ask you all to listen

to my words

I ask for you to listen

remember what you’ve heard

You all have dreams— 

so do I

But will you reach so high you never stop?

You might still miss the moon up there

and beyond the moon lie the stars

keep climbing, if you dare.

Let these stars remind you of the truth:

No dream is too big or too far

For these stars in the sky, no matter how high

Still shine brightly throughout the night

The other stars in the sky are who you may or may not expect

The people who want you to shine too

They are the ones who know your worth, your dreams, your passions

They are the ones who will shine with you

So I beseech you all, 

listen well to what you hear.

Your dreams may never reach the moon

But you’ll never rise in fear.

No dust has settled on these 

hands since you 

let go. 

I keep my house tidy, 

in case you decide to visit. 

The answering machine blinks silent; 

it no longer plays my voice. 

I worry you’ll regret hearing it, 

ever since that day Mom— 

I know I do.

As I look back at childhood memories, I find myself captivated by the reflection of two simple yet profound phrases that have resonated deeply within me throughout my journey of growth: "Why did you grow up so fast?" and "I miss when you were little." These words, uttered by either my dad or my grandparents at different stages of my life, filled with longing and sorrow, are a heartbreaking reminder of a time when innocence coexisted alongside the carefree days of my childhood. Do they not realize that the words they spoke aimlessly have left such an important mark on my heart, leaving me with contemplations about the passage of time and the evolution of all my relationships? It leaves me with self-deprecating thoughts like, Do they not like who I have grown up to be?

"Why did you grow up so fast?"—a question filled with wonder and longing. Each time my dad whispers these words, I feel bittersweet nostalgia tugging at my soul. It is a reminder that time, like a clever thief, has snatched away my childhood innocence, leaving behind traces of maturity and responsibility. But, even with the complexities of teenage life, I try my best to reassure him that while my outer shell may have transformed, the essence of who I am remains eternally intertwined with the cherished memories of our past. 

On the other hand, "I miss when you were a little girl," spoken lovingly by my grandpa, evokes a sense of warmth and wistfulness. His words bring me back to the days when he used to brush my hair and attempt to put it in a braid, embracing me in a cocoon of love. With each syllable, I feel the weight of his longing for the good old days when laughter echoed throughout the garden where we used to plant flowers, and innocence danced in the sparkle of my youthful eyes. As I grow older, I realize that the bond we share goes beyond the restrictions of age, creating a tie of love and understanding that remains unbroken to this day. 

~ Anonymous

Wax on paper 8.5x11 in.

Loving you feels like

a post-firework show: 

a swirl of debris spiraling down, 

the remnants of a snowstorm, 

poisonous flakes my tongue can’t hold

B-lot-s 

As ink bleeds on paper, 

I’ve poured my love onto you: 

A Bunbury Rorschach.

Is that why we're so hard to read? 

Two faced disarray

One side lover, one side stranger

Which one do you think

I’ll end up with today?

Your exhausting cycles

Circle me like a condescending cloud 

Maybe I’m better off 

Without your deflecting doubts

Monday you apologize

You agree to put a stop to your tiring ways

Tuesday you rip up that agreement

Right in front of my newly-gifted bouquets

Wednesday you trudge to me in regret

Adding onto your endless burden of false portrayals

Beloved broken clock…

Times up.

“Hello?”  The sound of my voice echoed through the room.  Was it even a room?

I quickly blinked open my eyes, blinded by the sudden light that surrounded me.  I stood up, trying to put on my coat, which protected me from the icy feeling of loneliness creeping over me.  I looked around me, but everything was the same: an endless sky blue clean and clear as water, full of nothing.

“Where am I?”  I asked, hoping for someone to answer, to wash away my rising feeling of unease.  My voice echoes.  

I tried to find a wall to lean on and feel my way through.  Maybe there was a hidden exit that I could leave from.  This place, wherever it was, was simply a void of sky blue.

A surge of panic rushed through me, as I wandered around frantically.  “Please, somebody!”  I called as agitation consumed my mind.  I hated being alone.  Ever since I was little when my mom left me at the orphanage.  I clutched my locket, the last and only memory I have left of her.  “Anyone! Help! Please get me out of here!”  Tears threatened to run down my face, but I blinked them away; I needed to focus.

Your isolation isn’t real.  You’re not actually alone.  You can find your way out.  I try to gaslight myself into thinking that I’ll be okay.  But I can’t.  I can’t ignore the reality of my unknown situation: I am alone in a random void of sky blue with no one to help me.

My breath got more shaky, and my heart pounded louder than drums at a rock concert.  I stopped, focusing on my breath, trying to calm myself down.  “Please let this just be another nightmare.”  I silently prayed, surrendering myself to my tears, as I crumpled to my knees.

Pencil on paper

Last year, my family organized a trip for us to take in August to the Dominican Republic. The first half would be primarily spent with my dad’s side of the family while the second half would primarily be spent with my mom’s side. That trip was my first time going to the Dominican Republic. 

After arriving and having the day to relax and take it all in, the first day was done. The majority of the first half of the first half of the trip was spent sightseeing, looking at waterfalls, mountainsides, etc. It was really beautiful to see. We did that in 4-5 days. After that, we went on to the second half of the first half of the trip, which was a resort. With it being a resort, it was big. The whole thing looked like a rich part of a town on the beach. It was nice overall. However, throughout this part of the trip, something kept on bugging me. It was like germs on a toilet seat, sure you know it’s there, but you can't do anything about it. 

The problem in question was: I felt like I did not belong. I do not know how to speak Spanish. I was never seriously taught the language, nor was I heavily exposed to it when I was younger. I could not speak it if I tried. I can understand some and respond with basic things, but overall, I can't speak Spanish. This fact torments me to this day. The majority of my family is Hispanic and can speak Spanish and I speak English. I am completely cut off from a large part of my family. I cannot communicate or connect with all of my family members. The whole ordeal makes me feel like a fraud, trapped in the body of a person who looks the part but cannot do anything to save their life. This feeling loomed over me throughout that part of the trip. I felt like a child, having my parents say everything for me because I could not get a coherent sentence out. So, it was better to stay quiet. That is what I did, I was used to it, I am a quiet person but for other reasons. 

Though I enjoyed this part of the trip, that feeling did have a lasting effect on me. When that part was done, my grandfather picked me, my brother, and my mom up from the resort and we headed to the capital, Santo Domingo, where my grandparents had an apartment. Once we got there and settled in, it felt kind of nice. The smaller scale of everything helped bring a feeling of relaxation to the place. It was time for the second half of the trip. For this one, we spent time primarily with my mom’s side of the family. My dad, who was busy during the first half, arrived two days after we arrived in the capital. We stayed at the apartment for a few days and then we headed for our final destination of the trip, the resort of which I forgot the name of. 

During this part of the trip, I did not feel as though I did not belong because more of my cousins speak English. We were all in the same boat of not being able to speak the language so we all had that going for us. It helped me feel better with my whole internal dilemma. Even though I felt like a fraud in my own skin, I got to have fun and spend time with family. I couldn't ask for much more than that.

i’m here but you don’t see

a gift god gives you to wake up

sent off to wherever you want me to be 

this cloud is the light’s shadow

my destination is not here with you 

i’m going to the blue where i see everything