By: Harrison Cashmere

The Market of Closed Eyes

I woke and went straight to the market,
Drunk with drowsiness, intoxicated by fatigue.
I drifted here and there, sleepily
Searching for humanity among the stalls.
My eyes were closing; sunbeams fought
To open them for a fraction,
But clouds of cruelty surrounded me
And the light began to fade.
I could not find the humanity;
My eyes shut, and I fell.

The Weight of a Glance

I stood by the window as the rain began,
Watching the city blur into grey stone.
The glass was cold against my palm,
A transparent wall between me and the world.
Then, a stranger stopped beneath the awning,
Shaking an umbrella clear of the storm.
For a second, our eyes met through the steam,
A brief, silent knot tied in the air.
He didn’t smile, and I didn’t wave,
But in that flicker, the cruelty paused.
The clouds didn’t break, but they felt lighter,
Held up by the strength of a single look.

The Architecture of Survival

It sits on the shelf, a ceramic scar,
With a handle held on by a prayer of glue.
The crack is a gold-threaded river
Running through a white porcelain field.
I should have thrown it away when it fell,
When the gravity of a Monday took its toll.
But a cup that is whole only holds tea,
While a cup that is broken holds the day it broke.
It reminds me that being mended
Is a different kind of strength than being new.
There is a humanity in the jagged edges—
The proof that we have survived the floor.

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Harrison Cashmere is an emerging poet based in Kashmir. Their work focuses on the emotional intersections of daily life and the search for meaning in the modern world.