SUSSUROS

by Norah Chonis

The season of the dead has sunk its claws into my backyard.

Bright orange, red, and yellow leaves leaving spots against my vision 

The silent whisper of the wind flows past my limbs, almost like a promise 

Leaving gentle goosebumps on my pale arms, almost like it was never there in the first place.

My eyelids gently close, darkness ensues-

Dawning the dark cloak of silence- My ears open to the wilderness 

The whispers otherwise not heard become screams of protest against their silence 

The dead have risen, and I now hear their mysterious calls

Murmurs heard in passing, but never recognized

Seen, but not acknowledged. 

As my eyes crack open, squinting in the sunlight

My memory fades as if it were the leaves

And it becomes hard to remember 

That words start from whispers. 

Norah Chonis is a sophomore at Century High School.