Witch Hazels
by Zain Deen, Penleigh and Essendon Grammar School
Finalist, Years 11 – 12, written poetry
I’m grateful I’ve known warmth,
Only then I knew,
I thrived in the serenity of cold’s familial embrace,
But why should I be entitled to warmth,
Why would I be so deserving,
Why shall I bear the blessings I didn’t pray for,
Rather than those who did,
Why do I walk in these shoes?
Why me?
Why not them?
Those whose eyes tire,
Tired from routinely witnessing an eternity of tyranny,
Eyes that have learnt the impracticality of its tears,
After their tears countlessly fell forsaken,
Eyes that recognise internal cries were wiser,
In turn flooding their mind,
Tears cascading,
Flickering out the burning passion of their souls,
Souls who have suffered beyond my fathomable comprehension,
One can only have so much hope before it’s met with despair,
So I try to turn to new chapters,
Force my head high,
Grateful for all my blessings,
However perpetually acknowledging those with omitted blessings,
Shedding unbidden tears for their misfortune,
Yet I’ll wipe my cheeks dry,
Barring tears’ access to my soul,
As I have to prolong its burning passion,
As I’m blessed with forests of opportunity,
Now I’m forced to churn this flame,
Permitting it to mold me for success,
Reciprocating this world’s blessings,
Post-fortune I’ll set sail,
Hopeful on a champagne christened voyage,
I’ll find those who only know torment,
Wipe where their tears once fell,
Feed their hunger,
And reignite their passions,
With the flame that drove me towards them,
Then I’ll watch as the steam of their sorrows soar to the stratosphere,
Accompanying the clouds,
Observing their ephemeral passing,
A signal for the phoenix rebirth of their passion,
Praying their ambitions soar past these heights,
Enlightening my perspective awakening sonder,
Instilling lessons upon me,
Learning that absolute provision of freedom fosters potential growth,
Allow them to be the voice of their suffering,
So their cries are never again unheard,
Even witch hazels may blossom in winter if given the chance.
Want to read more poems? Explore the other Years 11 – 12 finalists.