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Written: July 2, 2025, for contest by: Sara Jama

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Ashen, wispy shades flicker
awash in caliginous candlelight.
His dark eyes peek out from beneath
his lustrous, silky black hair,
While her azure orbs hide behind
long, flowing ebony locks.

Bare bodies
wobble
In hindrance.

We can no longer find words.
The world today is hushed.
They aimed to silence us,
and they succeeded.

I shun the way seaweed nurtures the sea,
which will surge and test our shores, 
and how all the tea from distant lands
awakens ancient dinosaurs.
Honey bees now scramble 
for aesthetic time and space to thrive.
All that I grasp reminds me 
of a superfluous syndrome.

But still, I long
to let my words flow freely.
So I pour my thoughts into the rivers
and let them spill onto the stones.
I maintain speaking,
but fear they will find me.

Thumbs glide over soft, cold skin,
tracing each curve and contour,
as their fingertips ignite with desire.
Smouldering embers feed a blazing fire. 
He cradles her chest as if it were a fragile dove.
Slow thumb circles reveal pink peaks. 

The rebels are now carving out raw paths
to sow kindness and spark adventure— 
light and shadowed days
filled with political promises.
These have various ties with dreams
aimed at stirring the complacent few. 
Alkaline connections often require support 
to break free from rigid mindsets!    

The world has lost its integrity.
Our people perish,
and our youth scream for water, 
nourishment, and happiness.
Explosions and gunfire echo around us,
 and I find myself frozen; sleep eludes me. 
The focus is on us. 
We look to the world for support.

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