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Day and Night,

Two opposite concepts: one bringing light and the other showing wonders of the dark.

Yet one compliments the other,

Both influenced by the same burning star,

Shows us the need of light and dark in this tiny, little life of ours.

For a person clouded by darkness, even a small inlet of light can change his perspective. 

It can bring in the meaning to words, sense to phrases, colour to black and white

And life to the soul.

The black speck hidden in the blinding light shows us that there’s darkness even in the brightest of places.

It makes us realise the happiness behind cries, the pain hidden behind the bright smile, the dark within the light eyes and the unseen creases of the paper.

So is it just two words?  Just a daily phenomenon?

Or the hidden meaning of life that no one seems to understand?

 -Harsheen (a-bare-soul)

Under a maze Of dusty phone lines We stroll along

A riot Of smoke and smells Following behind

But where do we go?

Asocial badger left behind his hole One that he dug himself below oak tree. Bade no farewell to rabbit or to mole, Just hit the road and strolled towards the sea. He is asocial badger, after all.

He packed few jars of honey to his bag From bees who gather nectar in the moor, And box of crackers, gift from cheerful stag. Smart thing to do when you’re not really sure Where, when and how will you find next snack.

On his way badger climbed a gentle dune. Each tree around was bent by constant wind. He smiled to sun and whistled cheerful tune. Oh, joy to lay down dreamy and to squint, And no blockheads around to spoil the June.

After a while he stood up, cleaned his fur, And walked down the slope towards the beach. Vague memories about waves that were So huge when he was little cub. When each Of badger’s siblings frisked on lonely shore.

Now he’s alone here and the waves are calm. They’re far away, his sisters, mom and dad, Here’s only wind, sand, clouds and old palm. No one contests the right of feeling sad. No social creature comes to break the charm.

You looked unsafe. With each breath of wind that shifted your body, a symphony of creaking left your lips. Uncertain and afraid, I trusted you. The signs that led to you released warnings that crawled down my throat, becoming thieves of my inhalations. But I swallowed them whole and stored them as fuel for the journey I planned across you. I should have run as soon as I felt the way you grabbed at me, rope rubbing my skin raw. What you called love I thought of as restraint. You were a bridge with faults only noticeable to those travelling across. Each board that I stepped on was woven with pain and heartache. But the destination you promised kept me moving. Until I stepped unthinkingly and fell right through. Your ropes tried to grab me but I acquainted the fall, the water below giving into my body as I apologised for hitting its surface. For the first time in months, I felt safe. Id become used to stepping over you as though gravity was just an option I turned down. Holding my breath, hoping my exhales wouldn’t become daggers in the wind that fought so hard against you. Thinking, without you, I wouldn’t make it, I’d drown, I’d cease to exist. All this, and I’d forgotten that I knew how to swim.

Digging Up the Backyard

by P. Heaney

As a child, I dug holes in my backyard.

I had a small shovel, so the holes were not big.  

And now these holes swallow me, have left me scarred.  

Sunday mornings, mother’d take me to the churchyard,

Just after mass, the Catholic priest’s daily gig.

As a child, I dug holes in my backyard.

This was dangerous, where was that therapist’s card?

No one said anything, so I continued to dig.  

And now these holes swallow me, have left me scarred.  

Talking didn’t help, which caught her off guard.  

I even told her the whole story, every single bit;

As a child, I dug holes in my backyard.

Over time, I grew, yet the holes remained as I matured.  

Today I am tired. I’m lacking in grit.  

And now these holes swallow me, have left me scarred.  

The paradise behind my home became a graveyard.

Despair filled those holes, deepened the pit.

As a child, I dug holes in my backyard.

I plucked all the feathers You admired so Pulling and pulling Til my wings had to go

So I sawed away Breaking bones into bits A labor of love That my sadness discredits

I said it was for you But I guess it was for me I thought that I wasn’t Who I thought you wanted me to be