Poetry | Vacation by Clara Bahay


The following piece is published as part of our TLM Young Writers series, a dedicated section of The London Magazine‘s website which showcases the work of exceptional young talent aged between 13-21, from the UK and beyond.

Clara Bahay


We go every year to the same town

The town is the same every year we go

except another store

and another neighbour

have died.

The days there are made of making meals

which are ‘closed circles

leading nowhere’[1]

and voices droning in circles

and there is corn, corn, corn

and gravestones.

Every year there is a thrashing panic in me

against the winding sheets of this stagnancy

There is no purpose here for me

I am not ready to rest in peace.

[1] Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged



Clara Bahay is 18 years old and living in Washington DC. 



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