Eyes open the soul to inspection.
Sometimes when eyes meet the soul is filled with wonder and delight,
others an extreme desire to run and to fight,
an infestation that entangles and ensnares,
a **** that gathers there.

I have been burned by prying eyes,
their color, shape, and design
embedded into my memory for the remainder of my life.

In my mind, everything around those eyes have faded into obscurity over time.

The image at first is clear, but the edges fade rapidly,
Until all i see are the eyes filled with intensity.
A silent command, “Keep quiet.”

How could I have been so naive to have listened?
I remember being questioned when I kept my distance,
I said I didn't feel well,
An unheard cry for help.

I contemplated telling the truth,
But every time I thought to give proof,
I felt the eyes on me.
I was as if they could see everything within my head.

The eyes, they knew my intentions,
And their stormy presence gave way to hesitations,
It was not a total lie…
I wasn’t feeling well.

The cause of this unwell was what should be
Foreign to the lives of little children, like me.
This dark thing was not a thought to be entertained.
How is it that one morning you wake up,
Eyes masked by rose colored glasses,
And the next they’ve turned to jade?

Were my innocent eyes what made him want to pursue?
Open, inviting, gaps in the wall that hid my spirit?
Maybe that is why I was the target,
Windows wide enough for a thief to climb through.


I have very little memory of that time.
All that I can recall are those eyes,
Gleaming, and beady in the night,
Reflecting nothing but glimmer of the hallway light.

I remember how they looked when they looked back at me,
And forever those eyes will be trapped inside my memory.

What haunts me more than those grey and lifeless eyes,
Is how for all the times I saw those eyes,
They never seemed to see the tears in mine.

For a long period of time, we have been told to conform to the different standards set for us by the society. We grew up in a system where having milk colored skin and lean, slender bodies is the only acceptable image of beauty. Several advertisements and individuals will try to tell you what you need to buy or do to improve yourself, and I’m writing this letter to say that you are superb; a creation of purpose.

In a world where violence, fear and hate continue to exist, it is essential for us to unify and persist in eradicating the barriers that have been placed before us. Regardless of our differences - our backgrounds, religions, ethnicity, political views, jobs, academic standing, and flaws or perfections – we all want the same thing in life: respect, love and success. We all want to be seen and esteemed for who we are but we must also know that a women’s success doesn’t equalize with another’s failure. It is important that we work forward in life hand in hand, rather than to step on others just to rise above everyone else. Know that there is a time, place and an opportunity for all of us to accomplish our dreams. Know that you are able to think for yourself – despite of what the world keeps telling you. I believe that women like you and me are capable of creating history every day. I believe in the power of inseparability, that we could push the boundaries and open other people’s minds to a better discourse if we collectively act to make it happen.

As we celebrate International Women’s Month, I encourage you to find the good in the women around you. Let yourself be inspired by their experiences setbacks and victories. By doing this, we not only strengthen our respect for one another, but we open doors for others and ourselves.

This is letter is for all the women who’s looking for their place in this world. Whoever you may be – a student, a businesswoman, a coach, a lawyer, a janitor, a musician, a scientist, a military, a teacher, a traveler, a doctor, an athlete, a poet, or a transwoman – know that you are smart, beautiful, inspirational and strong.

Thank you for being yourself.

Sincerely,
Pat

I'm not entirely sure if I'm
More terrfied of swarzchild's radius
The likely end of heat death over the eons of time
Or suspensions of the corpus' habeas

Or perhaps terror lies in false vacums
Or neglected tropical diseases
Or perhaps it lies in refugees being refused
Or with a virus that does as it pleases

But despite the fact that I get
My share of nightmare fodder
Your videos are complex, with layers of thought, yet
They're easily understandable and popular

The work you do is truly amazing
You spread wondrus knowledge through the web
And while you terrify, you're equally inspiring
With all of the points that stick in your head

So to you, Kurgestat, I give a mixed thanks
For though your existentialism can terrify
I love learning, from your words on war to banks
And the way your videos spread like they fly

You increase me.
You bring me quiet.
Your presence is peace.
You are what I meditate to embody.
You are river not beating down land.
Your lips are water caressing shore.
And still you are so full of fire.
You are all red room ...
And rich, smooth chocolate.
You are fresh earth
And bonfire.
I always want to end with you
Start with you
Give into you...
Coat your wounds with my laughter.
You deserve the calm you give to me.
... Please lie down your burdens,
Share your energy with me.
I'll lay it all out for you...
Forever will never be here
But this moment
Right here ...
Today ... with me is .
-Indigo Morrison

Dear C,
For the last week
I've been feeling down
I didn't believe anything
And no conclusions could be found
And all I could think
is " what if life has no meaning?
what if the universe just wastes space?
what's the meaning of the human race?"

But somehow
inexplicably
listening to you rant on the bus home
about how your Harvard-trained substitute
"Can't ******* teach"
somehow
unexplainably
made my day
a little brighter
and pushed the system in my mind out
like the month-long rainstorm that just ended yesterday
I guess listening to someone vent
when you feel pent up
can make you feel a little more free

so thank you

An open letter to teachers
I love learning
You make think that’s odd considering the blank look I have on my face every lesson
But it’s true
However when you put me in a room of thirty other kids I don’t get along with
Or don’t like learning too
It kinda kills the mood
Whilst learning definitions is important and I understand
You’ll forgive me for looking out of the window for a few minutes before tuning back in
You’re just as bored as me I know
But of course you’ll never let it show
After all
Your class is the most important of them all
Thirty minutes of homework a night at least
I study 6 other subjects
Each of them requiring at least thirty minutes too
That’s three and a half hours of work a night
Plus eight hours of school
That’s a twelve hour work day
So you’ll forgive me for yawning in your class
Afterall I stayed up til 12am the night before doing the work you set me
No of course not
How dare I yawn in your lesson?
That’s right it is incredibly rude
It is my fault I stayed up so late the night before
Doing work that you set me
How dare I?
I apologise

I love learning
But I don’t like sitting in a room of 150 other kids doing an exam
Spending three nights before fitting into my head all that I could cram
So I could have you stand over me and watch me as I write
Or the giant dreaded clock counting down from 100 to 0
Each minute going faster as I struggle to calculate how many times 0 goes into 100
Asking a question that can’t be answered
“You won’t be able to ask questions in real life”
That’s odd because my work place embraces asking questions
On the bottom of every sheet saying ‘ask the manager if you don’t know how to do these jobs’
But that’s not the real world
Part time work is not the real world
Flipping burgers at Maccas is not the real world
But it seems pretty real to me

I love learning
When I was 8 loved to do maths
Triangles and squares and circles it all came naturally
Then you started implying that maths was a boy’s area
That only boys do well and boys can succeed
I lost that love
Took a left turn at maths and English lane
Whether that was the best or worst choice I’ve ever made I’m here now
A poet who can count to 100 in threes languages but can’t make sense of the letter x
What’s it doing there?
Isn’t maths just numbers?
Are English and maths crossing over?
No
X and represents everything and 1 all at once
Just like how the conch symbolises law and order?
No
It’s just a number
A number that needs to be worked out
Ten lines at least to work out x
A million different solutions and trial and error will not be one
It’s the cheat’s way out
The girl’s way out

I love learning
My maths teacher taught me to love maths again
My English teacher taught me English was not just a constellation
My drama teacher taught me drama is so much more than the stage
But maybe this is all too late
Because when I’ve spent my life waiting to fall in love with maths again
My love for maths was lost
My love for learning was lost
My drive is lost
I love learning
But not as much as I used to

Please,
Please,
For the love of God and my self esteem,
Do not
Under any circumstances
Compare me to another girl.

You see when you do this
My heart sinks.
My chest gets tight.
My through clenched.
My eyes sting.
My gut feels like it was struck by a first.
And my self confidence
Is nonexistent.

It doesn't matter who you are
Who she is
Or what my relationship to either of you is.
Just don't do it.
Being told that someone is better than me in any way
And that I am not good enough to be equals with them
Leaves me broken
And more depressed
Then you'd expect.

She
May be a better singer;
She
May be prettier;
She
May have enough to be perfect to someone.

Me?
I feel worthless
24/7.
And knowing that someone
Thinks less of me when compared to someone else,
Imagine
How you would feel
Knowing
That you are not ever going to see yourself excel in that area
Ever
Again.

So please,
Please,
For the love of God and my self esteem,
Do NOT
Under ANY circumstances
Compare me to another girl.

Thank you,
Insecure and pitiful