Empty
Anonymous. Poetry. I didn’t have a childhood. Too rich for it. My father was too distant; my mother disinterested. Instead, I got their money. But I was always searching for that missing piece—someone or something that would make me whole. I thought I had found that piece in my husband. It turned out I had…
Balance
Paul Awdeh, ’23. Poetry. Perfunctory in our actions in our social and emotional in our sphere of life. Where nothing matters but our own knowledge of life. When this is challenged we become fuller and bolder with the unhindered possibilities. Because equilibrium reaches a balance Balance of life, of Earth And this compromise reaches all…
Lonely
Anonymous, ’26. Poetry. The man on the moon weeps for me. The stars sing for me. I cry into the arms of the constellations.
Kismet
By Paula Dalzell Villalonga, ’25 During temperamental summersShe rises warmand people tread over her course skinin wheelsShe cries hot tears before middaythat wash the childrenand cloak young lovers in its dewAnd in the afternoonShe grins from the farthest beach east to the farthest beach westso the swimmers can comb her waters as they weave between…
redinkmag 