I.

I'm  an incoherent mess and it shows I guess,

Hearts ache, hearts change,

People hurt, but we take it in stride and move ahead,

Defiant and hopeful, broken but held together by sheer will.

The scars fade and we dare once more to risk being hurt,

Break down, rise again, Rinse and repeat,

I guess such is life in a bruised, battered but undeterred nutshell.

by Mushfiq Redwanuz Zaman

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Escapril: How a poetry writing challenge curates community

II.

It always hurts to leave.

But it hurts even more to be left behind.

I remember the first time I was left behind. My first day of school. See, my mom sucks at explaining things. So she never really got to explaining what school is. So when I found myself in a room full of crying kids and unknown adults, and my eyes searched in vain for Maa, my heart had felt heavy with an unknown, all-encompassing weight that threatened to collapse it.

I remember the first time my sister left home for college. We had been unwilling roommates all our lives. Quarrelling, screaming, crying, laughing, counting all the times I brought her water so now it was HER turn to do errands....somehow I didn't realise how her absence would feel until it was time for her to go. My eyes became watery and it felt like someone was tearing away a part of my heart, leaving a gaping hole there.

I remember the first time my parents left me behind in a foreign country. The pain and the piercing loss didn't register until I saw them walking away, their figures getting smaller and smaller. My mother had looked back, tears and pain spilling out from her eyes. It was that one look that unravelled the heavy, suffocating knot that had pressed down on my chest.

I had walked back to class that day, knowing for the first time, what it felt to be truly alone in this huge world.

by Farah Aziz Annesha

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Are you what you read?

III.

Hurt is a snake.

It stings, it bites, it churns my innards inside out. It constricts me till all the breath in my lungs has been squeezed dry and I am left gasping for dear life, dazed and trapped. But the more I resist, the tighter the serpentine embrace envelops me. The more I try to escape, the further I descend into this reptilian sinkhole of death.

So I freeze my movements. I feel its prickly, wet, scales chafing my skin bloody. The pain is excruciating. Daggerlike fangs stab me in places even my hands cannot reach. The sensation is morbid.

But I stay frozen. I feel the pain in all its entirety and all its variety. The snake drowns me in its poison while I drown it in my tears. But I am the only one suffocating.

Yet soon enough, and strangely enough, the beast starts giving in. The hurt lessens and the grip loosens. I find myself able to breathe again, fully. Its scales detach from my veins and blood droplets roll out in unison. And I watch as it untangles its winding frame from me, and slowly slithers away, leaving me in shambles, but alive. I know one day it'll slither its way back into my life, ready to constrict, but I will survive it. And one day, I will tame it.

by Rafid Khandaker