A village unrecognizable in its’ stillness
Shadows where buildings once stood
A child’s haunted eyes peer out of a crate made window
Sitting motionless, searching with melancholy anticipation
Possibilities of peace reduced to rubble
A boy, drifting on a dust filled road, tumbles to his knees
Author: WILDsound Festival
Submitters reactions to their feedback on their stories. New testimonials coming each month!
Watch this month's winning readings. At least 15 performances a month:
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Submit your script, story, poem, or film to the festival today:
www.wildsound.ca
Dear Past Self, Poetry by Kris Dionio
Dear past self
I know you won’t believe it, but you’re flat out amazing
Just the way you are
Mom will tell you to lose some weight
And dad will try to convince you that you’re straight
WILDsound Festival 