mistake the walls for horizons
and the summer for hell—prisoner
of someone else's war.
I live in a tower
with a man unbearably ashen
and a woman unbearably strained,
and wave away the sunset's scarlet
while the rooms shiver off
each day's ache.


is a wall of eyes
and a raging battle—
that loves surrender like a feather bed,
that loves her offspring like an iron cage.
I could not lie to her for there are already
a hundred curses
tangling her up, screaming deceit
with telephone rings and quiet
hallway steps.


are resistant and frank,
of malleable morals. Your love is a whirlwind
that passes by my door to drop
a secret you created with your hands.
But plaster gifts are prone to break
like eggshells against these walls
(as if I need more eggshells to tread on)
and you depart in a fury at how hopeless I am—
friend, do you know
how your gift makes my hands emptier? But


is a season, turning inevitably:
from the parched grey of summer,
to the autumn red of blade to skin,
to the vacant white of walls. Years later,

I stare straight into sunsets;
you study to be a healer;
her millions of eyes are growing dim;
and this parting winter is bellowing its final blizzard—
one dying breath to topple every wall.


I'm cleaning house these days, spending the humid afternoons sifting through hundreds of pages and knick knacks and memories, filling up trash can after trash can (because I am not who I was?). But yesterday, I found an old online chat transcript from a dark time in my life and realized that I hadn't even scratched the surface... there's so much of my past that I've blocked out. 322 lines. A well-meaning friend, a mess of personal circumstances, and me, caught in the middle—it brought me face-to-face with a part of my story that I'd taught myself to forget, and I didn't know how to respond, so I wrote the above, faster and more effortlessly than I can ever remember having written a poem before.



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- Tempted and Tried (Russell Moore)

- Beauty will Save the World (Brian Zahnd) (4/5)
- Lots of textbooks



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I'm Oksana—Communication major, shutterbug, occasional blogger, incessant doodler, graphic design geek, and writer of sentimental prose. I am quite content to spend an afternoon with a pencil, a few blank Moleskine pages, and a playlist of indie folk. I love musical theatre, black-&-white movies, and Eastern European illustration. Conversations with strangers make my day. When it rains, I make a beeline for my mug of green tea and stack of 19th-century fiction. I'm vegetarian about 98% of the time. I'm extremely awkward and rather nerdy. I love the sea. My name means 'hosanna' and I'm having the time of my life living to praise the One who set me free.

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