by Sarah Toney (This story contains suicide.) The air was thin and icy. Breathing it in felt like swallowing shattered glass. The city was beautiful from this height and the boy wanted to reach out and feel the warmth of the setting sun. The heaviness in his chest felt a…
By Kristal Peace (This poem contains domestic abuse.) My mother holdsMy hand as we navigateThe city’s streets during rush hour,The song of sirens escorting us home.She holds the grocery bagThat yanks her toward dinner. She holdsThe sharp words my fatherFlings at her when she thinksThe day is going well. She…
by Kristal Peace My fatherWas a busy man. He sat all dayIn front of his computer. Often,He took time to check his SmartphoneBecause it beeped a lot; it needed Him.I would try to interrupt himHoping we could play a gameOf tag, or hide-and-seek, or soccer.Or even read a book together….
by Kristal Peace What is the length ofHeartbreak? The colour ofDespair? I will tell you:The length of heartbreak is The story of the dayYou left me. The colour ofDespair is the pool of tearsDancing in my bewildered hands. And The sound of guilt,Does anyone knowHow decisive and sureThe sound of…
By Kristal Peace This old house has plenty of room For misunderstandingsPlenty of space forThe silent treatment: There are four elegant bedrooms that lend comfortTo each person nursing a grudge;The spacious, sunlit kitchen accommodates everyoneAs they take their meals alone.The living room is a cozy gathering placeFor insults, accusations, evasions,…
by Kristal Peace A dove denuded by an azure skyGently surrenders herself to her nest.While a falcon above constricts his chestWillfully restraining a primal cry,And indifferent winds, jaded, pass by.When she, naïve, takes flight after her rest,Her dance in and out of the light suggestsThat her body is his to…
By: Kristal Peace More and more Often now, The oak tree in the center of Our yard inexplicably Begins to weep. Every day, for two weeks, Its branches sag, and its leaves cascade To the ground, like the stream Of a waterfall, drenching the entire lawn. But It is Summer,…
by Kristal Peace Poetry is the sound of the soul Crying. It is the way the heart speaks when there is no one Who will listen. It is the voice of those who have been compelled to be Silent For so long. Poetry is Pain: Distilled.
by Kristal Peace My confidant… How did we get here againTo knives thrownHoles madeVows shatteredFeelings swayed. My ally… When did we find our way backTo moments beforeCivilized discourseTo rage and fearAnd throats screamed hoarse. My sympathizer… Why do we prefer the roadAdorned with bramblesThistles and thornsLittered with grudgesAnd studded with…
by Kristal Peace Weaker than I cannot be She waits For me . To produce The pearls that Will save her Life, to silence The guns and stay The knife that . Ever approaches her Dawning cheek I reach, I try But I am weak. . And she cannot know…
by Kristal Peace Mother used to stand Five foot four, She was proud Of her ability To do sums. Mother used to dream Of doing more Than being paid To drown her pride In other people’s dish water. Mother had an accent She said it kept people From seeing her…