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by Hasini Peyyala

In the garden of knowledge

I was a gardener

Thinking I knew everything,

But having tasted nothing at all.

All I knew was my own life,

My routine, and my flaws.

When I first heard of war on Eastern shores,

I was lost,

Having ventured far from home

When I scrambled back, it was all the same

Monotonous tending to the plants,

Wishing nothing would change

Living in my little paradise trance

But flashes of the past came in threes

The living and the joyous

Then the deceased

The light shuttered

The light tricks I see

The flowers sprout a dozen times

They will sprout a dozen more

But those ones my gaze will never fall upon

For I’ll be long gone from the fish bowl

The world is old and I am new

The world is bold and so have I too,

Possessed the attitude

To grab the vine and bite the fruit


Hasini is a current junior in high school. She is an avid reader. She enjoys writing and playingh board ghames in her free time.


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