By Rachel Barnard
on the aisland
Autonomity at its most arduous
makes me think of aislands.
A haven or retreat for the aislado
or forlorn solidarity of man’s?
Una isla deprevida de companía
I sit alone, pondering the situation
sólo, sin otros, la es mía
is it self-creation or deprivation?
Without one to articulate
soy como un alma perdida
trying to find the refuge I sought
lo, una jaula que he construido.
The three coasa that I brought
useless fall, como rena por mis dedos.
Realizing my enclave, became my jailer
mi aislamiento about thoughts of my credos.
When he terminado con mis pensativos
perhaps I will build un puente
connections of thoughts to place me in society
a resolution, no man es una isla, la fuente.
Source of my confusions
conozco con la detachment
distant no longer, porque
con ambos I am fluent.
About The Author
Rachel Barnard’s greatest accomplishments have been eating an entire half gallon of ice cream in one sitting, winning a boot toss, and writing a novel about herself. Rachel Barnard wishes she were taller, that chocolate had no calories, and that books could be eaten after they were read. Rachel Barnard resides in the Pacific Northwest and loves to dress up, talk about writing and books, and dance. Rachel Barnard primarily writes young adult books, including Ataxia and the Ravine of Lost Dreams, At One’s Beast, and Donuts in an Empty Field (For the Love of Donuts Book 1).