submitted by Dana Leggett, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada

i speak to you now, hear me before my head explodes…
i need you to understand this flesh
it holds many memories, many scars

babies have been housed here, like nesting birds with the sweetest song
babies have travelled down the path
that you explore with your fingers, your breath

i have allowed you into all of me
hear me now
the birds have built a temple of this space
hung beads from the ceiling, soft pink wallpaper
delicate wallpaper

understand me
birds have built a temple of this space

the windows are broken, hear me say this
there are no more birds, they flew away a long time ago
the carpets are full of sickness

this temple
no longer a temple
gleaming gold and rosy love
but the darkest shadow in the darkest forest
hiding away
hear me when i say

birds have decorated this space
in all of their innocence
they have shone all of their wisdom
burnt their initials
in the delicate wallpaper

they have built a temple of this space

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submitted by T.W. Chui, CA

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submitted by Kyla

I’m tearing apart inside and out nothing to say, drowning about

this sea of darkness, swirling around me is making me dizzy

in this misery of feelings. Hurting inside wanting to scream

no one is there to hear me, crashing down like thunder rolling

I’m lost in this maze, sadness is here, I am fading away…

is anyone there does anyone care, I’m isoloated from the world

torn apart and blue, all I need is you, your gone your not there

I’m twisted apart…Falling fading…I’m torn for eternity..

submitted by Torsa Ghosal, Kolkata, India

Bruises embossed on her face, yet,

ancient pacific eyes

propel tumbling boats

at sunset through her bosom.

A look at her and one sigh… peace.

Peace, when I see her baking chapattis

Curtained by dancing smoke, sucking black coal

On winter mornings,

Peace, when I see her battered hands

And still know my grandma nourishes hope.

Lone divide between life and death

contained in her hour glass figure,

the jingle of bangles-anklets

since Himalayas

awakened, ticks

on clock tower. Touch

of her wet, warm palms and

one long word, everlastingly- … hush.

Silence, as I climb up to Eden secretly

Cradled in lullaby of her choking throat

Silence, that’s how my mother sees

Vernal dreams beyond her painful loads

Protected in the foliage of tropical forest,

plucking petals to deck my doll’s wedding gown

I painted the earth with my toes,

I would ride on the merry-go-round,

everyday and I knew well that was bliss.

Bliss, when we tasted berries from

Cloudland vineyards that were shielded from splinter

Bliss, as I thought the creepers of childhood would

Hold me in their fragile smiling grasps forever

Eventually I was, like my grandma and mom

Sucked into the roaring fires of clichéd roles,

Of fulfilling expectations, of being the one to care,

Enduring patiently-

Night after night, bitter fights under the quilt of happiness…

Where does this end? How will we ever transcend?

Hungry touches of monstrous silence…

Until on one such troubled night

A peaceful, blissful, silent whispering moment

Informed me, as I was staring at the blades of the fan,

Some girls of my home land have gathered

Shards of lives like ours and practiced to walk on them,

And by now must have reached beyond

Circular chapattis and songs of the flawed heaven…