Issue 4
By Shruti Reddy
Before I Go
When all is said and gone I will leave you with this message before I go.
Unsaid words will find themselves spoken when you open up.
A quiet refuge hums through the soul.
Suddenly, I realize this is what I am meant to do all along.
A flicker of understanding is sometimes all we need.
Reason fills in the gaps.
Like a fresh breeze gets in through the flaps.
A tremor sounds its alarm in my head.
Writings are infused with spirit and passion led.
Empty nights call me to my desk.
I write and write on blank sheets.
Listening to my favorite artists' beats.
A name for myself on my stone.
Then people will see that I am made of much more than flesh and bone.
A maze of circumstances.
Overcoming the trauma of the world while listening to Grow by Frances.
A title is penned.
Sometimes to a creative, it might seem like literary escapes are our friend.
Words jump out.
When injustice takes over, it is alright to stand up and shout.
Before I go all I want is to make a difference. Making an educated reference.
My thoughts are shaped by keystrokes of a pen.
It's a matter of when.
Keys of the typewriter.
Turned me into a fighter.
Bedlam
Inspired by The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson
cracks within the pristine walls
echoes of secrets lingered through the ghostly silence
The house seemed to pull people toward it like a magnet
secrets pervading the night that cast a deadly tremor
The stairs creaked
Wooden shelves stood high
Here is where the ghosts lie
a place that seemed so surreal to drive by
resting on a dreary landscape, the castle walls withstood the weight of the outside
a big place even for a family of six
ruled by myth even as the clock ticks
a lone fortress that carried voices of the past
a legacy that would last
rooted in lore and legend, so shadow cast
charged by ghost stories and preternatural phenomena
resting atop a hill
The seemingly haunted mansion stands still
hands that grip with a primal fear
Things are not always as they appear
The house reverberates with this dark energy that seems to manifest during the storm
Chambers becomes undone
absorbing more darkness
with the same aura as the Queen Mary
many told tales
boosted sales
No one seemed to understand the mentally ill
shivers go down my spine like a chill
From Shruti Reddy: I am a poet and writer from NY who loves to write original works and solve mysteries. I am also a dancer who mainly does Bollywood folk songs.