Poems & Essays

16 May

Outside their room, there are bullets with everyone’s names

General/Column One Response

Every night, I fill my daughters with dreams.
Their world is made of
ice-cream pants,
chewing gum shoes,
chocolate dresses,
hats dripping with honey.
They go to a park.
They are cold
because of the ice cream
on their ankles.
But they laugh.
They are clean and full
all at once.
They walk home.

Every night, I pour into my children new dreams-
the ones about how the moon and the sun
came out together to hear a child.
The song kept pulling them,
but they could not wait,
and they did not care who they upset.

Every night, I fuel my girls with stories.
I tell them about the boy who had a car in his pocket.
He could unfold it anytime he wanted.
It would be as big as he wished,
and he would fly away.

Every night, my daughters know
that on their pillows
even the stars line up
to wish them good night.
They laugh until they yawn.
I wait before I turn off the light.


Anuja Ghimire is a native of Kathmandu, Nepal. Her poetry is published in over 30 journals in the U.S., Canada, and Nepal. A Pushcart-Nominee in 2015, she works in the e-learning industry by the day and writes poetry whenever she can. She lives in Dallas, TX with her husband and two little girls. Some of her published writing can be found in http://saffronandsymmetry.tumblr.com.

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1 Comment

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  1. Karen

    May 20, 2016 at 3:29 pm

    I love this poem.


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