I would nominate this if I had a nomination left but I genuinely hope that someone else sees fit to.

Take care

Gosh have I felt like this before, but never could place it into words as eloquently as this. Amazing.

My heart feels so many things reading this... and your voice and honest emotion here just adds the depth, heartbreak and thought of what a new year brings. Not only the realization of passing, lost or never found love but this overall question of what are we celebrating? People on earth continue to move and breathe and live and is that what we are doing? Simply drifting?

Hope to see this on the front page. Always love when you share with us, Noura <3

Congratulations on your front page win Noura! This is such a deep write.

Let's celebrate your win... *pops a party popper*

Oh my! Thank you guys for the comments, and for nominating the poem. Appreciate your feedback and nice words.

judging comment

"This lady doesn't post much, but she never disappoints when she does, not least because we, the reader, know that she speaks from real life experience and that she has suffered genuine hardships. When art is genuine, it is instantly noteworthy simply because, if nothing else, it portrays an emotion that the artist needed to paint, metaphorically or not. And that deserves to be paid attention to. Don't get me wrong, however, this lady is more than just genuine. She has an ability to convey that emotion succinctly and cuttingly.

I have to be honest, whenever I finish reading one of this poet's writes, I almost feel guilty because I have gained a moment of pleasure from the privilege of reading and that seems almost parasitic considering the traumatic nature of a lot of her work.

Why, then, have I awarded this 7 and not 10? In all honesty, it could have been 10, but I always feel free verse needs poetic devices aplenty to raise it obviously above prose (alliteration, imagery, metaphor etc) and this piece isn't overflowing with them. However, I am equally aware that - should a work of art become overproduced, as it were - the very authenticity I was raving about becomes lost." (7)