This poem by Alena Zhang ’18 was published in January/February 2017 issue of Cicada Magazine.
She sees / I see
water crawling beside a fresh spill of glitter lava silhouettes of spotted embers glowing by the hands of the summer sun trees painting a cowhide black and white darkness erupting to a light sending a maelstrom of dragonflies jetting across the scorching stream and my little sister hears but what I don’t feel is that grumble of the gravel the earth beneath our feet shouting and you’d think she would ask me “is this normal?” but she still has time to learn because I’ve seen winters come and go and make volcanic mistakes one too many times.
