By Ariana Alvarado
I cannot help but be a worrier.
I see shadows in my closet, like a child
who fears, who cries themselves out,
because how else are they to learn?
There are moments, fleeting, yes,
and short, where I am nothing
but love for you. I am reduced
to reaching. I am afraid. I dream
of drowning, of rejection,
of catching fire and blades
that know too much of me.
I hope that when I fall, the ground is soft
and loamy, suitable for growth.
I hope I will always be able
to speak like this: laid beneath an island's
sun, capturing the warmth in our skin,
pressed to the ever merciful Earth.
Ariana Alvarado graduated summa cum laude in May 2024 with a degree in English. She was president of the Ariel Literary Society, student advisor for the Pen and Sword Open Mic Club, creative director for BU Showcase, co-Student Program coordinator and writing coach for the Writing Center, and a member of the national honor society Omicron Delta Kappa.