With Turning Twelve


Chong Yu An

walking on these uneven paths
I carry a heavy sack on my back:
groceries for the month.

The smell of food teases my stomach.
I think that comes and goes.
the streets are full:
people carry on with daily tasks

My heels rub against the rough floor
The sky blankets the vanishing moon
black birds soar as greens greet the sun,

For just a moment, I stop to look,
at what stretches above me.
The busy world,
The sky and I share a soft whisper,
(about possibilities of the future)

Grace Lim 

I feel bound.
I hold what they say is all that matters.
(textbooks and assignments.)

My eyes burn with lost sleep,
with turning twelve.
children like me,
on the verge of breaking down.

as I walk to school,
at 6 in the morning,
cars zoom past as if the city never slept

I pause to observe,
Albeit for just a second,
the waking world,
chatting briefly before returning to our lives
(about stories of the past)

Kinjal Johri (Class of 2024) enjoys writing realist fiction, playing with forms and structure for poetry, and exploring the intricacies of human nature and behaviour through literary works.