Refugee

It pains. But there is no time for agony.

Hunger rules. But there is no space for appetite.

Death gives birth to a faraway hope,

for a paradise none has seen.

She who is raped,

is unchaste.

He who shuns,

is surviving wretchedly.

The children cling

on to a hopeless rope,

promising more storms that slash

their very soul,

discriminating their ill-fate

strings of anguish forever screaming

their lives have been ripped away.

The Salmon Tested

Empty rivers of anxiety
flowing with
not fish
but corpses of victory.

The salmon swished
before this,
today it drinks
inevitable doom.

Having risen above the torrents,
having wrecked mental havoc,
haivng slept through the last night,
having the roe in place,

The salmon finally sleeps for this cycle.

This test of courage
cannot be delayed.
Yet procrastination
could not be swayed.

Splashes of ink
swished by regret
for losing to procrastination
and having stranded one's self.

Having seen classes, types, agreement,
having forgotten which fit where,
having resorted to cheap guesses,
having seen the invigilator glare,

This term I shall sleep, like a salmon, a fish out of its lair.