by Sasindie Subasinghe (Sri Lanka)
Audio: "Spirals," read by Sasindie Subasinghe
It began at the beginning in the middle of things;
at the center of the galaxy, in the middle
of a lollipop, at a mall parking lot: a spiral,
going up, coming down, round and round
around a silent axis, standing statue still,
where the world condensed before bursting out.
From a dot so minute, it grew out,
left bigger things for much smaller things,
curved the color of your eyes into helical strands; still
unsatisfied, searching for a nucleus, another middle,
another core, another axis, to wind ’round,
promise another straight line and draw another spiral.
It wrote itself in poems and stories in spiral
-bound notebooks of kisses and dreams and out
-of-place feelings and untamed curls tangled round
faces; growing up and not knowing things,
and bowls of spiral pasta in the middle
of the night when the city lights are still.
It bloomed flowers with divine proportion, still
nights giving way to rosy buds, blossoming golden-spiral
petals soft under the sun, whirling out from the middle;
then it dived into oceans and waters, mapping out
the path how the water drained the sink, left things
in hurricanes and whirlpools, spinning round and round.
It danced into sunsets, twirling in pirouettes round
the corner, where the snails with their curled shells still
made their way past the tendrils holding onto things;
and it frightened a million millipedes into a fearful spiral,
ran down the Loretto's twisting stairs and made out
with the yellow sunflowers, drawing circles in their middle.
It ate coffee swirls and swiss rolls for tea in the middle
of January, when the weather outside brought round
after round of harsh and bitter winds that left out
triangles for circles, left beelines for detours, still
swirling the brushstrokes of The Starry Night into spiral
clouds; even now, coiling another hundred things.
At last, it went out, with an artist, got lost in the middle
of life, felt things so roundly till the world spun ’round
a still thought and died in a poem, set in a spiral.
Sasindie Subasinghe is a 17-year-old writer from Colombo, Sri Lanka. She likes long car rides, sipping tea on rainy evenings, and gazing into the night sky. You can find her writing infused with lightning, stars, the sciences, and a quiet resolve to understand the ways of life.
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2/3/23, 12:21 AM
Reading this story was realistic and relatble
2/2/23, 11:27 AM
"I collected little glimpses of the north to hoard away for the future, like treasure" is such a beautiful line!
2/2/23, 11:23 AM
What a fascinating piece!
2/2/23, 5:21 AM
One of my favorite pieces ever published on Write the World!
2/2/23, 4:41 AM
Well done Everett on this powerful piece. I hope you continue to write!
2/2/23, 4:40 AM
Well done Genevieve - what a beautiful and evocative piece of writing!
1/17/23, 2:15 AM
This is so beautiful
1/16/23, 3:52 PM
I love all of it. It’s so real and so many feelings are there.
1/5/23, 6:02 PM
This is amazing. Do not ever stop. That is really inspirational, the whole writing piece made me want to help.
1/3/23, 7:19 PM
This article was absolutely amazing! I am so thankful to live in a country where periods and sex are fairly normalized, but I will never forget to educate myself about the lack of education others have. It pains me to know that in countries like India, girls are still put down about what they where and how they act. It was very brave of you to share your voice, and I commend you endlessly for that.
12/8/22, 7:25 PM
I really love this! I, myself, am not black, but I know of a lot of good black people. Sadly, I will admit, at one time, I used to think of a black community filled with gangs and poverty. But I know now how perfectly capable it is to live together if only we got rid of the stereotype that is so, so wrong. I do hope you accomplish this. This will great for our country.
Sorry but can't share the name
12/7/22, 10:40 AM
Basically I don't know how to react.
All the conservatives should be reading this.........