Self-Reproach

By Alaa Maher, 17, Egypt

The wind came for me; shook my soul

Whistling, rageful, forceful.

I stood still and welcomed it.

Danced with it in unison.

Felt its wrath while

wilted leaves fell at my feet.

I am hurting. I am angry.

I am every synonym of regret,

but at least the wind is proof that I am here.

On this earth. On this planet.

This vast expanse sandwiched between fire and ice.

I am here.

I regret many things I’ve done in my life, so I wrote this poem to express those feelings.

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