This inexplicable overlapping enormity, a potent mix of mystery and serenity. Can we prove our mettle in its face? Do we have the courage to dive and embrace?
Akin to it, we run wild, far and wide hiding the flaws with rage, or beaming with pride. Misled to believe we can detangle the enigma within while we don’t even know where to begin.
Unmatched beauty, endless stories untold delirium, agony, narratives so bold washed away like stray shells, or engulfed whole. Who are we kidding, we really have no control.
I gaze at the ocean, soaking in shades of blue. It fathoms my melancholy without needing a clue. I feel one with it, like it knows me by my name. Struggling to tame our insides all the same.
About the Author
Mihika Jindal is a writer of stories, poems, and experiences. Perpetually amused by the complexity of humans and human relations, she ponders about the matters of the heart, longing, and reconciliations. She aggressively rejects hustle culture. You can find her and all her writings on Instagram @mihikajindal.
I listen to rain from an open window and feel the coolness of early fall. You are sitting on a couch opposite me. The space between us is memory– children playing on floors, tears, animals, decisions, fear, age. It has grown dense with time together, so that now when I hold out a hand, it feels heavy with the weight that is all I want to hold.
About the Author
William Allegrezza edits the press Moria Books, Moss Trill, and teaches at Indiana University Northwest. He has published many poetry books, poetry reviews, articles, translations, short stories, and poems. He founded and curated series A, a reading series in Chicago, from 2006-2010. More information about him can be found at https://www.allegrezza.info.
I’m a woman shaped creature
in that I am no woman.
“Creature,” she calls me, “Breathe deep.”
And I inhale the fumes she pumps into my container,
toxic, painless breath on my tongue.
“Creature,” she says, “Knock. It. Off.”
But I can’t stop moving,
or I’ll die, shark-like in nature.
I’m a containment breach waiting to happen
in that it’ll be horrifying when I get out.
When I get it together, I’ll be monstrous,
like a lioness when she’s prepared to hunt,
a cheetah braced to spring forward,
a crazed beast keen to trample, purge, and destroy.
“Monster,” she names me, “Come when you are called.
Obey my words and act like a lady.”
But I have no softness, no gentle manners.
I am no daughter, no mother, no sister or friend.
I’m a woman shaped creature.
About the Author
Claire Bernay is a creator. She loves pottery, writing, crocheting, and painting. When she is not creating art, literary or visual, she is reading. Claire wants to do everything but mostly make meaningful and pretty art. Her experiences bleed into her art and inspire her to create. Claire’s creative nonfiction has been published in The Southern Quill (2021). Her poetry has been published through The Southern Quill (2020), Kaleidoscope (2020), and Poems of Summer (2022).