Poems that come to me at night


Anxiety feels like riding a roller coaster,

That keeps going up,


You don’t know

When it’ll go down.

Then, you realise

There’s a switch in your hand

To control

When you dip


If you dip.

There’s an issue, though.

You can’t see how far from the ground you are.


I remember learning the colors in sign language.

A red lip,

Some shaking letters,

A black cap,

An opening orange.

The one I recall most vividly,

Was brown.

A hand down the side of your face.

“There’s a little brown in all of our skin” my teacher said.

“At least a little.”

A little in all of us.

Maybe we’re more alike than we like to believe.


To take a picture is

To deny

To capture

To stop.

To deny the possibility of continuation, suspending something precious in an eternal, desired form.

To capture, take, and keep, something that otherwise can’t be captured, taken or kept.

To stop time, even if just for a moment.

Apeksha Atal

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