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@triinpaja
I dream in hurried whispers
frantically calling for settled peace
amongst troubled thoughts
and empty seats
crowded by a droning babble
forever in a constant struggle
I claim only ease
in my own troubled company
watching their restless words
clamour for attention
over nothing but an empty dream
boys in red lay along the platform pillowed on backpacks legs in the sun or sprawled on benches drooping hands fanning pale knees tanning ruddy
like a blush across the face of four pm heat
there is no force of nature that says “come here” like the ocean
'First, it means that you will be happy if you are doing your thing -- not necessarily achieving excellence, simply reaching for it -- in a life that allows you to do so. But, it also means that happiness is something we all deliver to ourselves.'
I don’t know where I’m going. Where I came from is disappearing. I am unwelcome. My beauty is not beauty here. My body is burning with the shame of not belonging, my body is longing. I am the sin of memory and the absence of memory.
Warsan Shire, from Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head; “Home”
A lady in the sky, she follows
dawn’s peaceful light
in wait of tomorrow's guilt,
burning beneath a mountain of clouds
each one darker than the last,
and yet she shines
brighter than any sun in any sky,
she wanders near those setting scales
backed by lions in a crow like roar
waiting to feed the passing day
a lady in the sky, she waits
J.R.R. Tolkien, from The Return of the King
Historian, writer, and poet | proofreader and tarot card lover | Virgo and INTJ | dyspraxic and hypermobile | You'll find my poetry and other creative outlets stored here. Read my Substack newsletter Hidden Within These Walls. Copyright © 2016 Ruth Karan.
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