You’d think the world were ending.
With how null-coloured cracks rack the sky.
And razor winds shred the upside down sea overhead,
Into shards of spray.
Too bold and too brazen, set sunlit clouds of envious hues
They form and dither without recollect of heart’s healing
There once was a stone Maker,
Of eponymous resolve,
Through every creative endeavor,
Had a conundrum to solve.
Read more “Chains, a Poem by Elyana Ren”
My mother pushed and screamed. I splashed into the wild
rumpus already begun, the party of songs and a girl
who cannot sing.
I started climbing, searching, finding
everything I would not need. Fervent groping
lips in darkness.
I wear words like
It’s my island, mine alone, so I’m alone.
Singing to myself and the sea.
With equally endless ever-churning fractal blacks above and below me.
And the pattern repeats, too far out for me to see, but there must be an