Poetry

Amber-Rose Weeks

Death emerges from the darkest depths of our souls,

the space within us that is fueled by fire.

Screaming with desire,

...

The morning light caresses the trees,this light is holy, its gaze benign.

Do you measure the Earth by the breadth of these branches, by the tenderness of those interlocking

...

She wanted to know what it was like to be loved.

She had seen its shimmer reflected
on the dewy youth of her skin,

...

I remember.

Under the dwindling light of that fading day

I watched my mother, from the window

of the room I shouldn’t be in.

...