#Title
With a familiar hunger
Lying on a mattress of fatigue
Visions of lying under the same stars
As the ones in his heart flood his slumber
His will gone, his eyelids fluttering,
He collapses, facing the same skies,
Although his lifeless body was floating to a watery grave
Forgotten, except to his widow and those he left fatherless
Their tears fall silently back home,
Away from the skyscrapers that hide a graveyard
Of souls bought without their knowledge
The clinking of glasses drowns the noise outside the window,
From where dollar bills dangle like bait to fish out of water,
Eyes covered to marvel at glistening kaleidoscopes of sunlight
Reflecting off of the stained glass,
Outside, it’s already blinding,
Hands blistered with callouses
Underneath the shining silhouette of pretentious indulgence
Through the warped realities refracted by the diamonds
The caked blood of the rouge lipsticks
Their pillars, burdens of damned backs,
Bones in the cement,
Damned bodies lost in the walls of development
Without memorials
Their freedom, wings of their backs
The ones they die for a thousand times, cut off indefinitely
In gold and iron, their reflections still surface in the sweltering heat
The atmosphere of perfume sickens
With the stench of sweat and sun it was built with
Victims of their own naivete
Pawns of a legacy they march on
In hopes that this time it’ll pay off
Even as it never does.
Ariana Basher is 13 years old, studying in grade 8 in International School Manila. She wrote this poem during a family visit to United Arab Emirates last after seeing the sufferings of Bangladeshi workers there.
Where Hopes Don’t Die
Come to my pastel sky
Where hopes don’t die,
Where birds don’t sleep
Paint a rainbow with colours so deep,
With promises that you keep.
How Far
How far would I travel
To be where you are?
How far is the journey
From here to a star...?
Ramisa Bhuiyan is a Bangladeshi poet and BBA student.