by Shah Tazrian Ashrafi
There will come a time when your soul will be crossing the troposphere,
The stratosphere, the mesosphere, all the spheres,
Forsaking your home;
Like dead birds in flight.
And you will have wings for hands,
You will drift far away from the war zone that you were born into,
Jiving to the rhythm of the wind.
So spill the words storming inside you
While the light in your eyes is still unfaded,
And the bones of your ribcage are still unbroken.
Let them glide down.
Like an avalanche
Through the quiet mountains.
Let the silence know that you exist
As fiercely as possible.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing