Brit'ne Julyan, USA

Writer: "When I was five, my mother and I wrote a story, one which I'm still trying to get published. I've been adding to my repertoire ever since ..."

(Submitted by the author)

no two alike,
fall to an open hand,
but before the eye can focus on the shapes of them -
they’re gone.

a moment of grace,
translating inspiration,
unpredictable and evanescent.

left to traverse the essence of being
that yearns for hands that can hold
and time that is stopped by new eyes,
which in one breath will lose their light.

Leaving one searching, though preoccupied,
Constantly interrupted,
The heart beats,
The body breathes,
The soul waits,

Looking down dark alleys,
Hungry for the mystery of the kiss
For keys that open doors

Until once again, unexpectedly, it is touched,
And in the attempt to retain, never learning,
Though for a moment not ignorant …
With scent still lingering,
One reverts to the search
For snowflakes to hold

Dedicated to Sam's teacher, Libre Cory, a person who, through her repeated moments of pure joy and grace, could inspire the entire world with her compassion and generosity.



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