To be a Writer
If not now, when
When asking how, do
The story that unravels from inside
lingering thoughts collide
To form the story that cannot die
For those who write on napkins
on screens or perhaps even sing
to capture a thought, a beautiful thing
They are courageous, shy, never dull
For new worlds exist in their skulls
Village Lottery
I had won the village lottery and was declared 'Princess' which brought instant tears to my eyes. I waved to the cheering crowd as I was led to my throne adorned with pearls and drenched in red wine and the servants lifted my throne. Like a welt, the skin on my wrist reaching down to my elbow was tender. The markings went in jagged directions and I lightly traced the skin distractedly for a few minutes. Or at least, it was an attempt to distract myself from the smell of sulfur and sweat of the men who carried me towards the volcano to face my destiny as the 57th sacrifice in our village's month-long festival.