Special Place

Veronika Warchol

Silence is sometimes a gift

That rarely exists

When you find yourself in it

It often feels like you’re dreamin’

Thoughts consume your mind

And make you wonder about all of life’s possibilities

Some seek silence as an escape

Others reject it out of fear

I welcome silence at times

As it rejuvenates the mind

-Remy Dubac

The late summer sun casts its golden glow,

Painting ‘noon grass in the color of brass.

One spot shines brighter, where the flowers grow.

My grandma’s roses: delicate like glass.

Next to the garden, heavy grapevines twist.

My grandpa’s treasure, his own paradise.

He beams at the clusters, ripe and sun-kissed,

And hands me one, and it’s gone in a trice.

Red juice drips down my chin. I lick my lips

And savor the taste of the fading ‘noon

That slips into dusk. The stars, like toy ships,

Sail in the calm violet sea with the moon.

I hold this memory firm in my hand

And imagine myself in my homeland.

-Yuliya Pasechko

Veronika Warchol

Frosina Pavloska