By Hazel J. Hall
we’re at the bottom of a well / looking through to the heavens / why are you crying? you’re like the sun honey / the sun /
why are you crying? / i’m here. i’m right here. /
every staple on the telephone pole was once a cat who was lost / found. / a rock band looking for a new guitarist / found. / a fear seeking its resolution
/ and found. /
you’re like the sun honey / you’re asking about how things are back at home? but you are home. / found. / peace of the moon lover / grace of star gazer / heart of sun chaser / warmth in us / i want to be here / found. /
do not ask / could things have been different? / stop running from it / you are like the sun / stop running from what you seek to give / you are the sun; found in the passionate heat of your difference. /
/ at the bottom of the well / we look through to the heavens / you are why /
/ we let ourselves be lost. /
Hazel J. Hall is an 18-year-old disabled-queer writer and poet based in New Hampshire. She is currently pursuing an English degree and working on their first novel. Their work has previously been featured in After the Pause, Quail Bell Magazine, Celestite Poetry, Réapparition Journal, ScribesMICROFiction, Microfiction Monday Magazine, Valiant Scribe, Wishbone Words, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Palest Blue, and Overtly Lit, and is forthcoming in Breath & Shadow, CLOVES Literary, Poetry as Promised, Suburban Witchcraft Magazine, healthline zine, Vocivia Magazine, and Spoonie Press.
