By: Jennifer Choi
JANUARY 2025 ISSUE
POETRY
Editor: Trevor Cunnington

Birds
With their beaks, they write / with their wings, they erase / The sky is their shared canvas / a place of endless lessons / scribbled & rewritten over a thousand flights / Somewhere within them lies a map of the world / etched & preserved / yet never once used / They have never known what it means to be lost.
Wolves
Weavers of solitude / their single-note howls once filled the crescent moon’s emptiness / Long ago, they stole human genes / evolving into ghosts of themselves / but beneath the full moon / they return to their wild truth / fierce & unbroken / their eyes mirroring drunken souls / crying out into the night.
Wind
A collision of voices / between mountains, seas & clouds / restless & unpredictable / it roams until its quarrels fade / sometimes when it stirs between human hearts / it spirals into chaos / trace its particles / then you’ll uncover the hidden face / of every corner of the earth.
Butterflies
Flowers blooming mid-air / petal spirits in flight / they greet the world / half a laugh & half a tear / bittersweet & fleeting / To children, they’re angels clapping tiny hands / to the sky / they’re God’s delicate wings / watching them feels like a sunlit dream / or a spring snowstorm.
JENNIFER CHOI
For more information:
House of Grief
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