By Shalise Thompson

The Quarantine Blues

I remember a moment in time where my life didn’t feel like mine,
Darkness cocooned me to sleep and somehow kept me up all night
I slept during the sun and cried to the moonshine

The soft dripping of rain would never sound out the screaming child
My youth left at the delivery room my mother gave birth
Swaddling babies while smothering my emotions

And now my arms are empty yet my wings didn’t appear
Taking flight into adulthood is something I wish to miss
No more blues and dirty diaper tissues

If These Walls Could Talk

These cinderblock walls are starting to feel like a prison
Despite my decorations and color I can still feel the division

The chill of the cream painted cinderblocks as they close in
The singing silence that bounces off these walls as I count to ten

Assuring me that these cinderblock walls are not moving
That my mental health is in fact improving

I watch as each cinderblock laughs in glee
At my attempts to open blinds and doors in order to feel free

To close my eyes in order to ignore
The prison cell I paid for

Yellow Wire

I always thought riding the bus meant poverty
Tired lines and half-bent knees of the working class
I’d watch cars pass by their lights gleaming in mockery

I always thought the bus moved too slow
Tired feet scuffling and wheels rolling but never moving too fast
I’d watch those around me look for a seat through the overflow

I always thought the bus was too small
Tired air would blow through the day it surpassed
I’d watch leaves move through the air and then fall

I always wondered when I would get to my drop
Tired minds and half-opened eyes laid against the glass
I’d watch as the world went on never to stop

Silent Cities
Hope is given to those who can still breathe
climate change has melted away all these irrelevant things
my eyes have been opened to the evil
and sewn shut to the good

I’m slowly forgetting the puzzle pieces of life
that at times there is less work in death than in being alive
there is more happiness in silence
than depression in these crowds

I am so used to the noise that would always swallow me whole
it would consume me and keep me quiet
threatening to take away my city
threatening to take away my culture
threatening to take away me

so in a world of noise I am silent

Summer has Fallen
Looking outside my window I see green
Trees growing wildly curving around the people who breathe harshly
the slippery but warm concrete stands still in an effort to be of help
As echoing feet leave imprints of their lives on top of it

Ponder hall stands straight holding so many different emotions
The sun peeking behind it in wonder slowing falling back into the earth
This is what I see beyond the blinds of my window
My lips quiver as the cold bites at them in ferocity

The chatter of my teeth overrides the murmur of my stomach
I feel as though I am standing on the top of a mountain
Though my thoughts lay steady in the deepest of graves
Even the softest and thickest blankets feeling of heaven couldn’t keep me warm
The smothering sound of my air conditioner roaring on in the silence of my dorm

I shake in wonder of where summer has gone

Maybe I’ve Seen All I Can See

Maybe it’s the consistent voices outside of my window while I’m trying to sleep

Or the fact that I kept my bed so high that most days it keeps me from counting sheep

Maybe it’s the melancholy smiles on everyone’s faces as I walk by
Or the cold and grey sky that weeps and cries

Maybe it’s the food that tastes like cream-colored walls with a sprinkle of salt
Or the sidewalks that go on forever reaching the walked on asphalt

Maybe it’s the depression lurking in our shadows gripping our feet
Or the sun leaving quicker while the moon takes a seat

Maybe it’s the crickets wailing outside my window as they sing
Or the hornets that disappear right before they sting

Maybe it’s the fact I’ve seen all I can see
Or maybe in fact, just maybe it’s me

Written for FYS 178 with Heidi Kelley