a woman walks down the street the day hot, the day long, 6pm, and full of rush and she is tired, and you can see her clutch her packets tight and run a little as if the motion might lighten the load does this moment, brief common pain, endured and conquered as you enter your car in a rush laying the burdens down mean anything? is it worthy of a poem? what is the importance of the small and ordinary in our poetry amidst the struggles large and momentous? what is the weight to the small amidst the flow and that battle to stem the tide?
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Neshal Chanderman
Neshal Chanderman is from South Africa where he enjoys the sun and poetry in equal measure. This will be his first published poem.