To Dust You Shall Return

Still a beauty

Yet I know that your lifeline has been cut

That though you still breathe

You already belong to death

You aren’t yet faded

But you are fading

And Time- he soon will leave your side

As you will in turn leave us

We who are now realizing

Between womb and tomb

We came from earth

Then to work the earth

Until we are buried in our precious earth

Now realizing that as we grow older

Our time is constantly growing smaller

We are all slowly dying

Arriving on hospital beds

Then leaving how we came

Frail, helpless, afraid

On a hospital bed.

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Boy and His Boat

In Jardin du Mail- I used to walk here to read, but now I find myself going home the long way so I can stop by the fountain and clear my mind. It seems as if this boy of around 9 years old had the same idea, except he brought a toy boat instead of a book.

I'm Actually A Happy Person

The generation made only of skin, bones, and that which can be injected into the first So that we can make believe even after we’ve kissed adolescence goodbye We can play pretend Pretend that our reality is what we wish it were Though we should be holding back a bitter, abrasive laugh Should be finding it hilarious How we make believe our reality is one thing But through our actions we unceasingly choose to let our circumstances choose the shape and size of our world How we act as though it is only logical that our past should define our present But our present define our future? “You just don’t understand” As long as we aren’t drowning, we’ll let the ebb and flow of mundane living continue to wash over us, coming in, Now out, Rocking us gently back and forth Now suffocating Now letting us up to gasp for air A lullaby so patient, so constant We lose consciousness to the fact That we’re slowly drowning But so long as death doesn’t come before Friday,...

Morocco: Marrakech, Fes, Chefchaouen, and Casablanca.

Each of these cities amazed me in unique way; the sunshine in lively Marrakech, the stunning view of Fes at night, and Casablanca's Mauresque architecture. But Chefchaouen was the city that made the many frustrations, wild taxi rides, and never ending bus voyages worthwhile: Marrakech Marrakech Garden of Yves Saint Laurent Garden of Yves Saint Laurent Breakfast in Fes Chefchaoen When I caught my first glimpse of Chefchaouen against the mountains, I felt like a six year-old on Christmas morning who had spotted a giant box with their name on the tag. Walking down the winding blue streets that imitated streams, I could hear French, Arabic and Spanish spoken. The blue maze-like medina sector was lined with the dichotomous Spanish and Moorish architecture. These bright blue walls symbolize the both the sky and heaven. Now that I have returned to France, I often see grey skies and it seems to be an unspoken rule to wear nothing bu...

Madeleine McIlheran

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