Writing

Author's Note- This poem is about a time where I struggled with a lot of intrusive thoughts about the concept of mortality-- none of these thoughts were intentional or wanted.

It’s formed by rocks,

Which undergo weathering.

It’s what dunes are made of,

Mounded by the wind.

It’s spread on a beach,

Admired by passersby.

Friends come and go.

Some may say like the seasons turn,

but that metaphor's not strong enough for me.

Friendships are like children's toys.

Friends come and go.

A child gets a new toy; gives it a name.

  I think it’s outrageous that our society prioritizes short term entertainment over long term commitment towards intellectual engagement.

America, the beautiful place of the free.

Where people from everywhere come to see,

to speak and love and create with others.

To live and laugh with our brothers and sisters.

The ocean of my mind swirls-

these waters have been tested.

Sirens sharpen in the distance

as the hurricane names me next.

The wind of panic wraps my neck like a noose-