3:29 AM


3:29 AM

The full moon hangs low,
On the inky black sky,
As the world sleeps.
Yet only one girl is awake,
Tossing and turning in her bed,
Wishing she were lying on a meadow,
A bed full of grass under her sprawled self,
Looking at the moon,
Underneath a star bright sky.
She would talk to the moon,
Calling the moon her mother.
She would tell her Mother Moon,
All about her life in the daylight,
When Apollo rides in his sun chariot.
The moon would listen to her rants,
She would listen to her daydreams,
Ever the quiet surrogate mother,
Listening to her daughter’s woes and whims.
The girl would sometimes wish,
That the moon would respond,
Yet she knew all too well,
That she was all alone.
Yet as the feelings of soltitude crept in,
Much like the early morning fog creeping in,
She would realise that at least,
The moon would hold her secrets,
And would never tell anyone,
Of all the boys she loves,
But can’t have.
The moon would never tell anyone,
Of the times she felt so lonely,
That she wanted nothing,
But for the Grim Reaper himself,
To whisk away her poor forlorn soul.
And she feels safe at last,
For her secrets are now in the past.

– Symphony Chakma 

Symphony Chakma 

You may also be interested in

May 30, 2024

Polin’s in the air… Bridgerton Season 3 is upon us!

After a two-year hiatus, Netflix's swoon-worthy series, Bridgerton, returns to our screens! Read more to find out how Part 1 has faired...
By Luci Kugathasan
image of a person embracing themselves seated within a bubble of solitude, surrounded by green leaf-like patterns against a dark blue background
February 14, 2024

Strength in solitude

A personal reflective essay on life as a first-year student at Western Sydney University, written in poetic-prose style describing the highs and lows ...
By Shabnam Siddique
August 31, 2023

Blak and white thinking: What is my place in the 2023 referendum?

Ruby Ritchie explores the meaning of Blak identity in the context of the Voice to Parliament Referendum. ...
By Ruby Ritchie