Brown Is the Shade

Sidra Mughal

brown is the shade of the soil, on which we step. where life blossoms, in which worms and microorganisms reside.

brown is the shade of her eyes reflected by the rays of the sun; daughter of the land, she is the pollen of love.

I love the earth she lays upon.

brown is the shade she was ashamed of words like bigotry were planted in her at an age so young. sedated by fiends she dug a pit into the soil of the earth, she built a home upon an alternate version of herself. she heals from broken promises imprinted by the past. she soon grows and fosters into the true version of herself. brown is the shade of a true love of mine, she is I, and I love her so deeply.

Good Times Hard Times

Tshimang

Good times in hard times

Hard times in good times

Lately, the guilt has been especially heavy

In being absent in some places

And too present in others

The overwhelming feeling to give my everything

This duty and sense of urgency built into me

Ingrained as deeply as I feel

I feel heavy.

I feel the regret

I feel the loneliness

I feel the sadness

That of myself and of those I love.

I feel my mother’s worry, In the pit of my stomach

I scoop it out like sand.

Slipping through my fingers and lingering for days in My heart, I feel my brother’s anger.

Burning with tenacity, it is hard to put out.

Spreading just as quickly as it is lit, Only receding in the wake of its destruction on My chest, I feel my father’s disappointment

The weight of it slows me down

Like jagged rocks, I chip them off my shoulders, In pieces big or small

They crumble and they fall,

The sharp edges bruising my feet, in My throat,

I feel the shame.

Viscous and wet, whenever it bubbles it chokes me

My words drowning in between gurgles.

My spine stiff and my mind frozen, I can only gasp for air.

My limbs are numb, my knees collapse

My chest ablaze, I can only gasp for air.

My vision blurs, my cheeks are wet, My stomach heaves, I can only gasp for air.

So, I gasp, and I grasp, I breathe. I can breathe.