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Student Poetry Corner - "Befriend, my friend"

“Befriend, my friend” is a revelatory ode to escape. It speaks of the infectious longing that plagues our days: to run far and deep into the woods, become someone else and never return. A common daydream for most with monotonous routines. In between the runs and the heavy breathing, the poem urges you to find your tree- a safe haven, within yourself. It asks you to reprimand the old wounds and the age-long grudges; seek beauty and color in a gray-scale world; and collect tokens of love from yourself and others. I hope reading it consoles you. I hope you can oversee the meaning and purpose of the antics of life, and accept days as they present themselves. I hope you befriend yourself today, and every day moving forward.

Befriend, my friend

Errah Fawad, freshman neuroscience major

Befriend, my friend

In the velveteen winds of September,

there is a desire to slip and fall under a tree-

ladened with tender Honeycrisp apples,

laminated with maple lush leaves.

Here the air heaves lazily in viscous waves of gold and green.

Here, we’ll meet again.

By the bank, where the heavy seas haul their release. Do you feel the breeze?

Rest your head under the cushioned weeds,

and caress your lips against the ripened seeds. Come, let us befriend this wandering life of ours.

Do you picture me in the rolling fields, friend? Verdant and hazy, swimming in the brazen-cut blades. In the valley of ranges that never wakes,

under tapestries of quartz skies that never settle.

Am I smiling in pink and white?

Does my skin blaze in the emanating light?

Your woes and mine- alike -will fade with the twilight.

Now I blush like the sun, drowsy and delirious.

A feverish dream of dry, dog days.

Am I affectionate like fat bees are to pollen? Tumbling, stuttering with my love for you. Wavering, hesitating my confession to you. Come, let us befriend this wandering life of ours.

Like a soft creature of demure and grace,

rise to your place from the heap of earth.

Follow the gleaming stream to the glen,

past the dusky dryad in cotton and lace,

the binding lure of shivering branches and soon, you’ll reach the tree again.

In these woodlands, you are by yourself, dear friend. Give in defeat and accept your fate.

Bow to the bushes and the beasts,

the lavenders and the oleanders.

Your solitude will soon be replaced and you will dream.

Come, let us befriend this wandering life of ours.

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