POETRY

By Arabella Sarver (He/she/they, California)​

 

the synagogue and most of the churches

would not allow me to dedicate a grave

there was not enough body to bury

there was only haunting and memories

 

the father had been a false lord

our consummating bed was vodka

he considered himself a christian

so i found a priest who blessed him

 

she counselled me on occasion

it was the most calming ease

i cannot call myself religious

yet the holy water on his grave

 

oh that must have been god there

whenever the fresh rains clean him

he was baptised as he could

the father never came around

 

(perhaps that was for the better)

By M.S. (She/her, United States)​

 

As a kid, I used to look forward to being a teenager

But now that I am a teenager, I want to be an adult

 

As a kid, I used to be satisfied with clothes

But now, I want certain types of clothes

And when I get those,

I want compliments

 

He used to want money to live comfortably,

Now that he has that, he wants even more to be rich

They used to want certain types of clothes,

But they now want only designer

 

We are never happy with what we have

Nothing will ever be enough for us

We will keep craving more

And more

 

Is it because we have never known true struggle

That nothing will ever be enough?

Is it because of our privileges we are like this?

Is it because we aren’t enough? For ourselves?

Why is genuine satisfaction so hard to achieve?

 

Can I ever be happy with what I have

Without constantly wanting more,

And more,

And more?