Gali

Today I saw my sister

the way she used to be—

not because she changed,

but because I remembered.

She was just there,

messy with noodles,

doing nothing special at all.

And somehow

I am chanting verse 9 of my first aliyah,

a bowl of blackberries and apple cinnamon Cheerios beside me,

fingers twirling the spoon, when -

out the window, there is snow.

Introduction: I’m writing a story that hopefully never comes true. I recently read Orwell’s 1984, and I saw some disturbing similarities to today’s United States under the Trump administration.

Composed on a run

With autopilot turned on

And an old love song
 

Quick little poems

With no start, nor a clear end

Grown just in my head
 

In a cozy nook

Not unwritten, but unsaid

i used to dream

of the day

i started middle school,

thinking the excitement

of getting older

outweighed the pain

of growing up.

my teachers wondered why.

and now that i'm in

I sob for

something I think I

hate, but cry "no no no"

when asked if I

want to quit.

Because I just can't.

There is no

possible way

that I could quit.