Go across the stream
where there are beetles
that would wet your feet.
Their voices surround
and repeat in a ruthless rhythm.
Till jeweled singing
become as swine
in the red ringed dirt.
Prodded by hushed voices of daybreak
and cruel masters of noon
I’d ask the sun for help.
And he’d laugh at me.
Because I asked for a place to sleep.
When the ground began to crack and crumble
from under me.
Tendrils of green weren’t soft either
but disgruntled.
I could not forgive
those leafy stars.
Who tried to crown me when
I wasn’t looking.
In fact, I’d coil my hands around my eyes
so that they wouldn’t have to see
the jaded insight before me,
and the little pinpricks of anger—
Beetles.
swarming my feet
and climbing up to my chest
until I couldn’t breathe.
Kinnereth Din is an American high school student and current editor at Cathartic Youth Literary Magazine. Her poetry has been published in Youth Be Heard’s online gallery and the Galliard International Review. When she isn’t pursuing art or poetry, you can find her occupying her time by daydreaming or sipping a cup of tea.
Comments