Poetry
Solitude
This work was first published in Anthology “Opening Boundaries: Toward Finnish Heterolinational Literatures” (2019-12-17). View the original publication ↗
The rivers run dry in the summer and the birds leave for the winter. It’s a strange place, where I’m from. Sometimes, at night, I hear my heart beating but place my hand over my chest only to feel nothing. I quickly move my fingers around, reassured to find the beat a little lower down near my stomach.
I can’t see the stars from where I lay my head at night but there are a couple of old glow-in-the-dark star-shaped stickers above my bed left behind by a past tenant. I look at them as I fall asleep, knowing they won’t be shining when I awaken. Dressing to the tune of modesty is my winter dress code. The fittest have ceased in their quest for survival and the birds have given up on us during these cold months. Our visions rarely meet the skyline. We simply stare into the salt and pepper sidewalks, slushed with mud and ice and whatever the elements have conjured up from the night before. I don’t worry about the beating of my heart during the daytime. I know I will hear it at night, when all is quiet, and all our sounds have died down.