Artwork by Andrijana Ristovska

Dedicated to My Ailing Mother–

When the birds will stop humming at the break of dawn
And the sun will stop fading into my favourite piece of art,
I will stop writing.

When the first sip of coffee will cease to be significant
And gratitude jar will be filled with tone deaf prayers,
I will stop writing.

When my solitude won’t be filled with sounds of rattling leaves
And the ocean waves will bring me no relief,
I will stop writing.

When the view inside my head will be better than the one outside my doorstep
And catching a breath within my four walls will be my best bet,
I will stop writing.

When the soil will refuse to bring into being
And nothing created by man will absolve the burden of an unrelenting future,
I will stop writing.

When my cherished grey clouds will spew venom
And wild creatures mourning aloud will be the only audible ballad,
I will stop writing.

When the means to keep myself simply alive will make me feel culpable
And any drop of grain I consume will only fill me with fear,
I will stop writing.

When there will be no choice between the devil and the deep sea
And that thought will bring a strange kind of peace,
I will stop writing.

—

#readersubmission by Ambreena Khan

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