Founded in the fall of 1991, Laurel Moon is Brandeis' oldest, national literary publication. Each issue we publish features original work from undergraduate students.
i.
Papa pushes chin
skyward and
eyes of mine yearn to rove,
seeking desperately for
ruby-riddled treasure troves,
wealth stored in droves,
splendors saved for
more enlightened lenses
than the likes of
mine,
still looking at the floor.
Says He:
— Nou bite men nou pa tonbe;
—We stumble but we do not fall;
Familiarly patterned brows frame
skyward, widening,
plus-de pensive eyes,
chestnut irises and this
beating heart
spilling over quickly
in rotely fertilized flush,
potted in these
particular ways
by
Mama’s loving Black Brush.
Says She:
— Yon sèl dwèt pa manje kalalou;
—One sole finger cannot eat kalalou;
i am a lone
petaled thing
struggling to fill burning need
amidst
fast concrete bearings.
these eyes of mine always pursue
the perusing of higher plains
than the likes of
the grittiest of terra i stand on,
pushing personal paths between my toes;
i forage for understanding amidst
bursting torrid brush,
old thorns finding newer ways to pull at
forearms and feelings, drawing from me
thick Black crimson.
ii.
if i must exist
in
this particular way
then:
stale gray slabbing can
not dominate me,
pressing from all sides against
deceptively fragile
Black stem.
When these eyes droop to a
bottommost place,
i happen to gaze
upon
budding
Black hope:
i am a live
amidst a harmony of petals
singing a refrain,
turning towards
the sun,
sprouting between
cracks, shoring these
sides,
say They:
— N’ap kenbe;
— We are holding on!
Skyward now,
say We:
— N’ap kenbe!
— We are holding on!
Richie, a Haitian-American creative drawn to sound and emotion, seeks to spread paint across canvas in his own special way.