An ode to the shoulders I stand upon
By Kulsum Shabbir
Shrouded in green
and veiled by the canopy above,
I stand in place.
I am but a patchwork
of love, passed
through hands that bore resemblance to my own.
Cupped palms held
seeds of yearning
across oceans.
The pebbles planted
still map a trail home (a place I don’t know)
Insurmountable responsibility
and bitter grief
gnaw at me.
But I will stand here
in place
and make it my own; for them.
Creative Editor
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