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.
