The dust of an evening spent living

"Today We fell like the stars We felt the dampness of the dark the sun the fields the tender air We arrive, light, darkness, doors, a thirst for more Can we hold the dust of the evening? Or will it fall with our touch, our breath, our step Will it flee, Will it welcome our touch? The touch of a sibling is a familiar thing. We are its originators, its parents, its heirs. Our skin is a veil of dust, and our skin forms dust. Our living, our solitude, is made possible by the very thing we wish to capture, to hold, to confine to memory. Dust is unconfinable, and for this reason it can be common. No state can monopolise dust, for it arises out of everything, War. Love. Evenings. The stars falling. Stars? Nuclear fallout. The dust bears witness, it is a universal signal. It cannot be taken political prisoner. It lives, together with us.

by Fiona Zeka, Age 17, Year 12, St Paul’s Way Trust School


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