Spring Sunsets

I could feel each step crunching against the bone dry ground. What used to be dirt turned dry and brittle a er eons under the sun, caked with sand and dust. I could see the heat rising o the ground, hovering above the surface, embracing my group and me. I looked forward, and saw only desert, I looked back and the results did not change, days of traveling in this hell of a place. e last week was lled only with walking and struggling to continue in this sandy place, interrupted only by an abandoned shack or the so embrace of night. I could sense my legs growing tired, my muscles struggling to push me farther. e most recent hill taking what little energy and patience I had remaining. e top of the hill opened into a large clearing, the trees forming an almost perfect circle around a eld of grass and the odd ower. I turned to Barney, keeping my voice a whisper.

“Do you think we’re stopping anytime soon?” I said, out of breath from even attempting to speak. “ I don’t think I can keep walking like this, it’s been like this the whole day.”

Barney turned to look at me. It was clear to me that he was in a similar situation, his face red, his lips dry, and his eyes struggling to focus on a clear point. He was sweating, losing water I wasn’t sure we would be able to replace anytime soon. But my worries were useless, as I noticed Barney stretching his hand upwards, and I turned to match his pointing.

No matter how out of place it seemed, I found myself facing a creek outlining the clearing, providing a border, a place of reference, and most importantly, water.

Almost unconsciously I began a rush towards the creek, and from the side of my eyeline I could see Barney follow my lead. Before any major ground could have been gained, an arm came down before Barney and myself, blocking our way to the creek, to water. I glanced up, growing increasingly annoyed at these series of events. Before I could even think of what I would say, Barney beat me to it.

“What’s the deal?” He spat out, obviously just as frustrated as I was. “We’ve been following your lead for the last week, we haven’t stopped walking at all today, and yet at the rst sign of water you won’t let us go?” e tall man lowered his hood, revealing short kept white hair, and his face turned brown with decades of sun and complemented by numerous scars of varying sizes. e man reached into the once purple cloak he wore, years of dirt and mud changing the colors to a more earthly shade.

I watched as he reached a bony hand into one of the numerous pockets, and watched as he took a long moment ddling with the col- lection of junk and material stored inside. A er an awkward moment of watching he triumphantly shot his hand out of the pocket, clutching an even older pocket watch. Not yet ready to speak, the man icked up the watch, read its display, and seemed to spend time thinking about what he read. A er another moment he decided to speak. He walked into the clearing, momentarily pausing to take in some aspect of the environment I did not understand. He kept his head on a semi-constant swivel, registering everything that happened within his gaze. He cleared his throat and turned back to face us. to Barney, and then back to me and so forth. I looked to my le , giving Barney a confused look, which he shared. I peered back at the man in the clearing.

“Because it’s a new place?” I guessed.

“Yes it is a new place, very good. But that is not the reason I am so cautious.” He replied. “ e answers dumber than that, it’s right there, you’re just too tired to grasp it.”

Feeling drowsy and dehydrated to lash back, I kept thinking about his question. A er what seemed too long, I faced the man and so ly said.

“Because this place shouldn’t be here.” I said, growing more condent at my answer as I read the... read the full piece here...

“Now why would I be cautious?” He asked, shooting a curious face

Stephen Song

Your Sky

poetry ANONYMOUS and My Shore

On one morning full of rain, someone ran along my beach. You, a storm of white and thunder, grabbed me by the neck. Yelled to me— beautiful words, that which I had never heard.

Silent Falls

charcoal PHEOBE CHEN

On some clear, dampening day, you held my hand with violence and spoke lightly without opening your mouth. I could do nothing but look upon you; old eyes and older songs.

On this evening full of sun, the wind whispers of my lonesome. There are no clouds to bless your spotless sky and I sit alone in the sand, right where you left me.

Gray Baker

A Relationship acrylic

NOTE FROM THE CREATOR:

This was a part of a series depicting the ways we experience different forms of connection. This painting was the one I’ve cherished the most out of the three, and it’s a visualization of a combination of relationships I’ve been apart of and witnessed.

poetry CELINA ZHOU

hey, babe, don’t you know we’re all gonna die? we live under red suns and a sky on fire dusting the earth in ash and hate. I watch you paint gold and glass to flood out the flame; a lily and the storm, unrelenting. taste blood on your lip and ash on your brow and sing for me, won’t you? won’t you sing for me? remember how you promised we’d find ways to be happy again well there’s a world out there where starlight can still reach us – there’s a world out there