Poetry by | October 1, 2017


I write your name
On a piece of paper—
I fold the sheet into halves
and then into another halves,
I pull some edges,
Clip some portions between portions
And there, on my palm lays a paper ship.

Under my blank-heavy blanket,
On the surface of my bed
Still, I carefully place it
Thinking that if I wouldn’t be careful
I might tear or crumple fragments of it.
And still, I wouldn’t like that to happen.
I let out my blues,
Let the torments pull it away—
I blink,
It sails.

I just stare at the paper ship
Until it’s away—
Gone from my sight.
I inhale,
Close my eyes and listen
To the sound of raindrops
Heftily falling,
Then I hear little cracks,
Little sound of breakings—

That is how I let go.

Ellah Ejem is a fourth year Bachelor of Secondary Education major in English student at Capitol University.

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