Today I am washed up on the shores of grief
Fleeing the night like a refugee
If you were to crack my pomegranate heart
You would see a hundred chambers for memory
In the crucible of the night
I am remade as primal dust
Only in skin and bone
Do I find my home
An angel perches on my bed
His eyes glowing like a hoot owl
And I wonder if now is my time
But I think he is only guarding
He says someday I will make someone very sad
I hope it means I will be loved
About the contributor: Laura is a poet and based in based in Brisbane. She was born in Africa and came to Australia as a child. She works with teenagers as a librarian.
Shahadat Hossain Shaan 
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