Poetry by Sara Farag

handwaterFor When There Is Not Enough Empty Space

Dream of paper crane hipbones
Fish bowl clavicle
Elbows catching rainwater
Purple blue bruises digging deep like peach pits
Folding in on time like quicksand
Swallowing everything up in one gulp

Holding morning dewdrops on your fingertips because they are delicate, because they are light.
Because they are everything you’re not.

 

Reykjavik

I want to wake up in Iceland.
I imagine everything smells like sadness.
Tribes of crying bodies doubled over in despair
As the fog rolls through.
There is no solidarity in misery, however
For we are all fighting uphill battles
Traveling in completely opposite directions.

 

Rebirth

I want to move to a new city with you.
Where no one knows our names
And you swallow me whole every night
And I am reborn with the sun every morning
Soft and delicate in your hands.

 

Florida

I want to marry a mountain man.

One with brambles in his beard
Campfire smoke on his breath.

A man who will chop down a tree and thank it
for making him a home.

There are no mountains in Florida.
We chop down trees to build ugly strip malls
and pretend we are happy
spending money we earned
working jobs that make us wonder
what it sounds like inside of our cars
underwater
with the windows rolled up.

We are already below sea level.
It doesn’t take much effort to let yourself sink.


IMG_3415Sara has been writing from an early age and has always maintained a passion for literature and the fluidity of the English language.  After graduating with a B.A. in English Literature, she’s worked as a freelance writer and hopes to pursue her dream of working in the realm of editing and publishing. Inspired by nature and all aspects of the interactions she has with those in her life, Sara has found writing to be the best creative outlet for expressing herself and hopes to encourage young adults to embrace the craft.

Follow Sara: https://www.linkedin.com/in/sara-farag-01266876?trk=hp-identity-photo

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