The Things We Don’t Inherit
We inherited warnings before we understood the danger,
rules whispered from one woman to another.
Hold your keys between your fingers.
Watch your drink. Don’t walk home alone.
We inherited apologies for taking up space,
and the instinct to make ourselves smaller.
We inherited stories told carefully,
as though the truth might break in our mouths.
I wonder how many women before us
wanted to leave something different.
Not the fear.
Not the shame someone else put in their hands.
Maybe what we leave behind can be a door
the next woman does not have to force open.
A boundary already given a name.
A voice that makes hers easier to find.
I cannot choose everything that was left in me.
Some things become scars before we can refuse them.
But I can choose what I leave in you.
And you can choose what you leave in her.
They left us a fight.
I want us to leave each other.
— Sofia Aronovsky
Voices echoed where no words were spoken,
Faces passed by, yet remained unseen.
Smiles wore the shape of living,
While souls wandered somewhere in between.
Anger struck like a storm in silence,
Leaving guilt where thunder used to be.
And every step away from others
Built another wall around the sea.
The world still turned, the sun still rose,
Yet colors faded from the sky.
For isolation is a quiet prison,
Where a heart can scream and none ask why.
But even shattered glass reflects the light,
Even the deepest scars can heal.
For one hand reaching through the darkness
Can remind a lonely soul to feel.
So here stand the voiceless and the broken,
The lost, the guilty, and the afraid;
Learning that being heard is not in speaking,
But in the bonds that silence never erased.
Nature spreading its Warm light,
Releasing its past, like our reflection.
Healing process so beautiful,
That mesmerizes mere beings,
Forgetting it is a healing phase,
Mourning like fools.
Maple leaves on the ground,
Crunchy with vibrant colours.
Yellow, orange borrowed from nature like elixirs,
Leaving green just like mere beings' youth.
Growing old but with beauty,
Mere beings miss the magic.
Mourning with sorrows,
While beauty shines like blessings.
Light is eternal,so is darkness
So are we.
Nature spreading its Warm light,
Releasing its past, like our reflection.
Healing process so beautiful,
That mesmerizes mere beings,
Forgetting it's a healing phase,
Mourning like fools.
Maple leaves on the ground,
Crunchy with vibrant colours.
Yellow, orange borrowed from nature like elixir,
Leaving green just like mere beings' youth.
Growing old but with beauty,
Mere beings miss the magic.
Mourning with sorrows,
While beauty shines like blessings.
Light is eternal,so is darkness
So are we.
I woke up to the quiet and
told myself "I will survive"
The morning felt heavy, so I
whispered "Let it be"
Walking past our old
corners, I remembered
"One day in your life"
And how the light used to
follow you like "Here comes
the sun"
I'm not chasing ghosts
anymore, I'm learning
"Shake it off"
Some nights I still hear the
echo of "Someone like you"
But I choose the softer
road, the one that sings
"Brave"
And tells me "You are not
alone"
When the doubts get louder I
answer with "Fight song"
And let the silence end with
"A thousand years"
You come into my dreams
Standing there slightly judging
Please go and leave me alone
Your sadness penetrates my life
Thoughts and memories
Come rushing back
I wake up in a cold sweat
Only to realize that you aren't here
Let me live my life in peace
I have suffered long enough
I still see your smirk
And the quiet commanding voice
That leaves me no choice
You are no longer here so please go
I have paid the price of your death
Picked up the pieces of your sadness
Scattered all over the house that I left
Ran away and never looked back
Thought you would leave me in peace
What do you want from me
I have a new life without you
Let me heal please...
Jennifer
The wind blew leaves like confetti all around
It's a party for Autumn to celebrate sight and sound
There's so much beauty to see, so much to be heard
As the wind blows, clearing ways to be cured
I never let a day pass without noticing something
Whether I feel good or bad, healing will always ring
Heidi Sands
10/5/26
(C)opyright
I swayed to your bamboo flute
delicate
hollow purity reverberated
into marrow sallow
tenacious sounds sent forth
healing
peeling
seedeaters, woodpeckers
finches —
inches upon inches
who harboured in bamboo’s unstinting growth
their arbour …
witnessed I a wakeful field from which
spaciousness sprouted
into a bamboo life
inviting tranquility
rooted into inscrutable
golden loam —
they stood flexibly erect
waiting to serve …
____________________________
4th Placement: Premier Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Oct 26
____________________
[ Poet’s Note :
This poem is an expanded version
of my Brevity Poem : Bamboo ‘26 :
Gold Placement Winner :
Allpoetry Oct.26]
Surrounded by my friends
But I still go home and start
Writing all alone in my room
Thoughts keep coming back to you
Each time I taste the liquor
All it does is sour my memories
I can’t see the good you brought me
Same with the others before you
I have to stop and look at myself
Is it a pattern, am I a bad person?
What’s wrong with me and the way I love
Maybe I don’t deserve it all
My therapist said I made progress
But I don’t quite see it.
Cause if I was the perfect man
I wouldn’t repeat all these mistakes again
I find it so hard to trust my heart
In anyone’s hands, maybe I’m the problem
But I still crave physical attention
Without having to go deeper
Where do I go from here?
Should I try again
Or lock myself in my shell
Maybe something fake is what I need
I’m trying to unlearn all the things
That hurt me and lead me to hurt others
So if it means to block off love
I’d do it until I know I’m worth loving
Is it possible to grow out of it?
Is it possible
To be big enough for favourite meals
And snack trips?
The taste never changes,
No, In fact it grows sweeter…
Is it possible
To be serious enough
To not chuckle at jokes
Which were silly yet hilarious
With nothing but
The sound of laughter to compete?
Is it possible
To be bold enough
To forget the eyes
That held yours when
All your worries came spilling out
No matter how shy you were
When you met them the first time?
Is it possible
To forget
The coffee meets
That turned into lunches
And walks —
Into all aspects of life
Despite being in a time crunch,
Waving it off like it was no big deal?
Is it possible
To grow out of
The very feeling you called home
Which were mostly hearts
Of the wonderful people
You had known once
But lost a little
Every passing day?
Is it possible to grow out of (that) yourself
Without the agony of losing
The never lost?
Aligned, intact wheels
Smile of stark accomplishment,
Satisfying smooth sail!
There’s a kind of power in my failure.
Like a bell that always rings inside me.
Not too loud, but at the same time,
its echo feels like a song teaching me
that failure is but a phase.
It makes the world unpredictable.
It rings when I fall,
as if it's a sign I will rise.
It rings when I cry.
Yet when I hold a pen and paper
and write my pain out,
it barely makes a sound ,
like a bell too shy to ring.
So, I let it ring in its own time,
like it always gives me a chance to be me.
Yet on those days it rang,
it showed me that I was here,
and made me turn failure into a song,
a melody that lingers, uninvited yet welcomed.
If there's no light, I'll create it.
If there's no fire, I'll make Warmth.
If kindness is lacking,
I'll gently place my hand on the wound.
If the ether is missing, I'll call it.
If the shelter is crumbling, I'll fix it.
If home is unreachable,
I'll build another with integrity and might.
If the joy is no longer, I'll find it.
If the spark is out, I'll light it.
If conciousness is gone,
I'll sit with you quietly to remember.
If the noise is too loud, I'll bring quiet.
If the quiet is too loud, I'll bring poetry.
If meaning is no longer present,
I'll remind you of how time and space aligned so we could look into each other
The borders fell like fever from a long-tormented frame,
No steel was turned, no legions marched, no decree spoke their name.
For when the node of silver wood began its quiet rise,
The phantom lines of sovereign pride dissolved before their eyes.
The ancient ghosts of territory, of fortress, and of crest,
Like winter frost before the sun, sank deep into the breast.
The pain that once had armed the hand and built the concrete wall
Was opened to the anchor node, unmetered, shared by all.
A mother’s cry in Sector One, the drought of Sector Four,
No longer stopped at checkpoints or the barricaded door.
The collective mind, in empathy, received the bitter sting,
And wove the ache of centuries into a single string.
Where once the barbed dividers stood to guard the hollow grain,
Now surged a tide of healing hands to wash away the stain.
The map of old Vaeloria, where blood-bought nations bled,
Became a tapestry of care, by quiet mercy fed.
No citizen was left an island, stranded in their grief;
The shared scar of the species brought its ultimate relief.
I was a child with questions, no answers in sight,
Why was love absent, why was home not so bright?
A little girl stood in a storm alone,
Searching for love that she had never known.
But then two hands held me, old yet so strong,
My grandparents whispered, "Child, you belong."
They did not ask about my scars or past,
They gave me love that would forever last.
They taught me to read, to write, to dream,
To find my voice, to proudly scream.
Where mother left shadows, they gave me light,
They turned my darkness into mornings bright.
So no, I am not broken, not lost anymore,
I have found what I was looking for.
I am not the tears my childhood knew,
I am the love my grandparents grew.
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