Perrine Aronson

The night is deep and dark.

The stars light up the river,
Reminiscence of the fragile lanterns hassled by wavelets.
On the banks of fiery waters,
Flooded with merchants, surrounded by onlookers, 
She sits, quiet and wise, awaiting enlightenment;
The blurry crowd around fading in oblivion.
Further away, I stare, focused,
Her back bent by the weight of years and knowledge.
I sigh and realize,
The current of time's river
Will carry off all human deeds
Hers too will disappear into the maw of life
Forgotten by all
But me.
And I wonder, is there one
That will someday remember me
And treasure my memory?

Anna Oakes

Dark green hills frame the setting sun.

Stoic buffalo guard tall old wooden houses--
They barely raise their heads as we walk by.
I am lead by a girl, four or five years old.
Her hand in mine, we silently explore what she has known all her life
as I struggle to find words that we can exchange.

Brother and Sister

Sarah Weiner

The dropping sun tints the land gold.

It proclaims its  dominance one last time
before succumbing to the evening cool.
Sugarcane leaves sway gracefully;
A lone duck pompously declares his presence,
Stomping noisily through a muddy rice field.
Let him feel of importance now;
in the harvest season,
his squat legs will be no match for the towering rice stalks.
A small boy leans against a bamboo fence.
Bare footed, he digs his little toes into the dirt.
His nose is dark and delicate, decorated with scabs:
thick and and cracked like tree bark.
A little girl runs up to him, her hair whipping around her face.
Her eyes are big and worried;
she shouts something in a language I do not understand.
The boy smiles lovingly at his sister,
and kisses the top of her head:
a promise of protection.
She relaxes.
He takes her hand,
and together they walk down the dusty road,
their shadows long.

Luke Williams

Shining lights and jewels across a skyline
A mirage of people and smoke
Hustlers and scammers and tourists and locals
Cars and motorbikes whizz beside me
Trapped in the crossfire of the warring intersection
My senses are drawn to the quicksilver haze
I stand abroad feeling at home, thousands of miles away

Elliot Crofton

Dim lights, ragged furniture

Abhorrent waiting room

Visitors drink beer and smoke cigarettes

Ugly people lie in simple beds and stare at me

An adorable oddity in this hospital circus

I lie in a modest bed, look up at scrubs, face masks, outdated medical equipment

Stomach wrenches again and I vomit on the tile floor

It is as if the world is ending

Pain seeps from my body into my mind

My thoughts become scattered and dark

For just a moment I would rather die

Perrine’s hand comforts me and I know that I am okay