Author: Clitbait

Home.

Where within the space between cotton and skin, did one decide that this would be home?
Home is not anything but not the fabric of one’s clothes.
We cannot fashion anything larger than ourselves.
Impermanence is our home and everything around us is material.
So fashion yourself, make yourself your home.
Put ink to skin if you must, cut hair, dye green or pink.
Find leathers, cottons, silks anything to bring you back to your skin.
Home is the coat we wear on our back, collar turned up to the wind.
From walking to sleeping we wear clothes.
Make them your home.
Walk in shoes that never come off at the door but rather welcome you to meet the world.
We are all inhabitants.
Our identity is our home.

Honor Crean

colourful 

they tell you to
taste the rainbow 
they tell you 
there’s nothing to hide. 

the very same people, 
repulsed by your pride. 
if it isn’t a commodity, 
a source of cash flow, 

they’d rather you wouldn’t 
be so open and on show. 
well, that’s too bad, 
I’m sorry to say. 

it’s our space to occupy, 
proud and here to stay. 
this didn’t come easy, 
to forget is to be numb. 

a war hard won,
with battles to come. 
there is strength in numbers, 
so be here with us. 

the red of your blood, 
the orange of a new day, 
the yellow of sunshine, 
the green of the grass,
the blue of the sea, 
the indigo of gems, 
and the violet of light. 

the earth shouts it’s support,
it wants us to thrive. 
and thrive we will, 
whether you like it or not. 

we answer it’s call, 
with “love is love”, 
the planet speaks back 
that “love conquers all”. 

Sophie Nankivell, Poetry Editor