Shoreline Wonder
À baby formed by seafoam
Found near the shore
On a bed of softened gold.
She met her parents at the age of three
When her lungs no longer spat out seaweed
And she ceased to cry tears of blue-green.
The girl stopped changing into the tides,
The kind that caused men to sink
And made sure they could do nothing but die.
The baby, painted with skin of glowing melancholy,
Sang until she was finally able to breathe,
And the gold melted under the heat of the sun on her body.
Dandelion Dreams
À field of wished filled my view
One gust of wind
And it all disappears
One dandelion containing so many dreams
Always growing and falling apart
We plucked them up one by one
Looking for the prettiest ones
Full and round
Yet so fragile
One mistake and we are only left with stems
Hopes for the future lay among these dandelions
But in the end, they too are destroyed
Smashed and trampled
Half gone, other half growing
They never reach their highest peaks
The Secret We Keep
Shhhhhhh
They tell us to stay quiet
Shove what happened deep down
And act as if it never happened
It couldn’t happen
At least not to you or me
We must learn to move past this
Learn to forgive and forget
But this turmoil burns deep inside
Crawling its way up my esophagus
Leaving a trail of flames with every lie that passes through my lips
And I can no longer contain this harsh secret
Afterwards, I laid next to my sister
And faced the bland wall in the dark
Hot tears dripped onto the pillow
As I told myself nothing really occurred
Flesh against Flesh
Hands touching chest
His fingers on my breast
I stopped it before it could go farther
I was only twelve and he was close to twenty-three
But it was not me who had my worry
It was the small children all around me
The ones who were meant to be his responsibility
Even if he moved past all of this
He still remains ingrained into my memory
But I ignored it until my blood felt like it was burning
My insides were always turning
And even my anxiety started to assault me
But with fear I kept my tears hidden from those important to me
And yet
Even those couldn’t be repressed
And my voice will no longer be silenced under this veil of darkness
My Country
In Dhaka, there are children running,
Weaving their way through the stopped cars in traffic jams.
The disabled impoverish lay in front of mall entrances,
Waiting for something or someone as they place themselves on newspaper beds.
In Chittagong, housewives dust off their worn out salwar kameezes
As they stare from rusted balconies at the state of their world.
The news rings in the background from the TV
But they choose to ignore the corruption that leaves the poor poor.
In Fene, small neighborhood are closing
As the ponds people live off of dry out and they can’t get to water anymore.
Millions of people rushing
Trying to ignore the riots that kill off their beloved offspring.
But people continue walking and talking,
Laughing as they enjoy spicy chanachur from the street vendors’ stores.
They keep living and breathing
Because they know that the devastation around them means nothing if they don’t.