Sunrise and Sunset of Spring
by Syeda Rahman
There is a sunset of colors,
and not simply colors of the sunset.
There is always an onset of lovers,
and not only lovers with an onset.
There is a shift in surroundings
and a drift from old things.
Yet a new moment
That is not quite different.
Seasons come and go.
They are reasons to show
can make incisions
that determine what is about to happen
and deter from what has or has not been.
Snow melts as does a heart full of love.
Seasons push and pull and tug and shove.
Previously, leaves looked like the sunrise
and now flowers will - flowers that begin to rise
from the ground
with the sounds of birds chirping in the background.
By Sonia Tan
Time doesn’t elapse
No, not here
Not where the verdure prospers
Stretching out to where the earth meets the heavens
The sky as clear as a bubbling brook
The trees arching up to meet the sun
The forest bends around us
Encompassing us in the warm morning light
A deafening silence
The wind and the leaves
Whispering unintelligible secrets
There are no gods here
Not in this hallowed clearing
Only the perpetual tranquility
That marks the cloistered wild
by Misaal Tabassum
Today I saw the lilac sky. Yes, the one you used to tell me about. I remember you used to say that even on your worst days, a colored sky would never fail to fix something that felt like it would never heal. It could bring to life a world unknown under the bright sunlight or the dark moonshine. It was the perfect in between.
Do you recall when we were little? Every bruised knee, every ice cream cone, every first winter snow. So long ago, but so important to us as people. You’re not here with me anymore, so I’m trying to hold onto the memories of what used to be. I hope you didn’t forget.
I used to be confused when you explained to me why you loved a tinted sky. Today I was upset but then I saw the lilac sky. In the back of my mind, your voice told me I was going to be alright. I think I finally understand.
Till next time,
By Misaal Tabassum
Sometimes I find it hard to forget
Anything that hurts and refuses to mend
I get lost sometimes, I confess
But yet, the next day,
The sun rises again