AliaHussain

Poetry by Alia Hussain

Serene Sky

Then if we hid from the sun,
I’d plant a dandelion on this trampled earth
and offer a tear to sacrifice the roots.

So what if transcending meant the final
tangling of ground-marrow before I cut it loose?
It must be better to kill mint than taste its sting
upon bits of tongue I’ve slashed to silence
with this staining sharpie.

But I will paint loud as a piper,
as you should breathe soft as a leper
cast away with the bulkiest
of spider-cloud nets, but never forgotten.

And air-drowned leper, you are still not forgotten
every time I settle like dust on my back and heave
with the joy of creating your legacy
into immortal skyscape dreams,
when I fill lines of straight-blue ice
with boiling water that seeps the sun of your smile,
when I dream of illusionary mountains
that crumble at my outstretched grip on the horizon,
my hand on your world
dark as a fleeing sun.

And I will not let go
or cast away rocks with nets
for you to catch and heave
the weight of my words.
And I will not let go
or brand you castaway like drowning weeds
for you to wrap around pebbles and sink
with the weight of my steps.
I will not let go
or shake the crevasse-clipboard
for you to dance off these leaflets refreshed
while I’m left to fling paint into the sun’s ice.

But if the sun truly hid from us,
I’d pluck a dandelion from this trampled earth
and blow a wish to scatter each lingering cloud.

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Alia Hussain was born on December 1, 1987. She has been writing poetry and prose since the age of ten. She dreams that someday words will open the voices of souls.