Poem by Kiri Winder
I used to throw stones in the sapphire sea, and let sand stick between my toes, listening to the birds sing and kiss the sky, while I leave my door unlocked at night. I booked a flight first chance I could get, to see rolling mountains instead of warm beaches, or lively houses with warm smiles. More people meant more love, I thought. I said goodbye to the beach, where I built my first sandcastle. I said goodbye to my friendship of twelve years, so I can make twelve more friends. Ready to hunt for a new home, a new village to wonder, a new place to run down streets and shops, I bid farewell to familiarity. My ignorance took away the rest of my goodbyes. I didn’t say goodbye to the local bread and milk, or the barely used key to my house, or even the town centre that fulfilled my needs, all on one bumpy road. I didn’t say goodbye to the short walks to the shops, or the quiet afternoons, or the conversations I had strolling through the streets. I am deafened by buses and defeated by traffic, Grunted at by busy workers and shoved by locals who have never had a day off. Now, I panic about an unlocked door. I live in a world that tastes like plastic, with rubbish and processed food. Even the long fields frown back at me, with yellowed grass and elm butts left. I cry at the murky brown rivers, and the distance to the beach, all for a swim in muddy water.
Kiri Winder is a 22-year-old PhD student specializing in children’s literature. In her free time, she enjoys experimenting with different types of writing, with poetry being her favorite. Although new to creative writing, Kiri enjoys writing critically and is influenced by historical events and classic literature.
