2026 Competition

The house was empty, 

the drive way desolate. 

The essence of them drifting away, 

And my letters written. 

Each reluctant footstep echoed, 

Each breath screamed like a caged tiger,

Each blink rattled against my ear drums, 

and every dry swallow bounced off the walls. 

With tremoring hands I picked up the flower, 

wilting in my slender fingers. 

A tear solemnly slithered down my pale cheek, 

hitting the unfurling petals, 

But all I could see was my dystopian reflection. 

The house once full of life, 

engulfed in a dark cloud, 

pleading to be let out, 

But it could only ricochet its emptiness, 

Through the cracks of silence.

Anya’s poem was inspired by her afternoon with Daljit Nagra at Ware Poets in October 2026.