Sonder

The builders smoke life into your length – you are a train,

whether you like it or not. In a place and time chosen for you; 

you snake in and out of valleys, vents, varied terrain; 

out of your windows, life events comprise many a view.

And some of them happen to you – life and land conspire

to bring you to a station you only had part of the say getting to.

People come in and out of you, bringing and taking as they desire;

some only bringing, others only taking – they are trains, too. 

Your direction is determined by you, the road, people on board;

with peaks and troughs to enjoy or endure, and unto others do.

Finally you reach your last stop – and, with luck, a reckoning sword?

A peaceful dismemberment, a climactic crash, or a cliff to fly the coup!

This poem was previously published in Coze, a Curtin University student magazine, in 2023

Devahuti Chaliha is just finishing off her Neuroscience PhD, and can't wait to finally learn how to be a normal human. So she's learning how to adult, which now includes lugging along the postdoc extension of her project like a clingy child. Between gleefully experimenting on humans, she loves historical detective novels and logic puzzles. Her occasional escape tactics involve singing, casting, graphic design, charity work, and literally flying away (on a plane). She watches horror movies for a laugh, and is equally merciless towards violators of human rights.

Care’s Immortal Power

I espy a fledgling with his mother—

camouflaged in the umbrageous tree—

bearing infant’s woe and mother’s anxiety.

His body bruised, eyes flitting helter-skelter;

quaking in his feet and shaky like a leaf,

perhaps pushed by shock or wanton wind;

grey days all set to harden,

as his heart tends to retreat.

A wearied mind needs a breather,

so does his heart with feathers evident of fatigue.

Finds comfort when the sun does peer,

days swept with clean air and bright renew,

the nights’ lullabies add to his respite,

as no eyes pry or wish any harm indeed.

A few days go by uttering symphony—

natural troubadours—

masterpieces of enchanters, feathered joy

nested in the midst of whispering leaves,

the once-trembling bird gaining strength and energy.

The mother only leaves for a while

in search of food, perhaps far and wide.

Feeds him with attention, auscultates his breath sounds—

a mother’s feel—only she can comprehend.

His wings sing of ease and cheer

when the pain subsides, with rest and more rest.

One day the mother leaves and doesn’t return.

When she arrives the next morning, the little soul

jumps on his mother, raising wings in ecstasy—

signs of the silent delight of the vagrant being.

A day or two more when the

quiet steeps of cloudland seem to cease.

Back to their usual routines,   

they fly away robust and free.

Sreelekha Chatterjee is a poet from New Delhi, India. Her poems have recently appeared in Madras Courier, Setu, Verse-Virtual, Porch Literary Magazine, The Wise Owl, and in the anthologies—Light & Dark (Bitterleaf Books, UK), Whose Spirits Touch (Orenaug Mountain Publishing, USA), and Christmas-Winter Anthology Volume 4 (Black Bough Poetry, Wales, UK).

Balloon Play

red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet—

i’m a rainbow balloon plumped with just a breath

with each sigh to lift a world.

side by side with clouds, i rise, floating free

borne on cold winds, sweet winds, wild gusts, thrills.

have you felt it—that rush of lifting off,

leaving earth small & hazy below,

mountains flattening out like crumpled sheets?

i’ve soared above the clouds so many times,

only to fall back down, deflated, tossed,

rolling through streets like an old coat.

the sky’s crowded with balloons like me,

& down below, eyes follow with envy.

i peek over clouds, colors gleaming, high & bright,

but in one flushed, giddy burst—i’m gone.

gone again, fading like a dream in a stranger’s eyes.

but the wind here is warm.

& you, tired & hungry—

come, let me fill you, lift you, just one breath.

let’s rise together, just once,

& see what it’s like to drift past the moon.

Jennifer Choi is a passionate high school student whose love for poetry began at an early age. She finds inspiration in exploring themes of identity, love, and the complexities of the human experience through her writing.