Welcome! Read the latest issue of PROGRESS, featuring inclusive programming in Virginia. Read PROGRESS


by Kayn Quincho

The dancing leaves in the air are familiar to the travelers
The travelers are familiar to the soil on the earth
Being aware of each and every step they take
They can feel the life breathing beneath their feet
Life being an acquaintance to the ones who took their last gasp of air
The ones who are familiar to the leaves laying on the ground

The fire is familiar to warm nights and filled stomachs
And the stars familiar to the storyteller
Who only tells stories at the dead of night.
The dawn is familiar to the sleepless one
Who’s woken up by nightmares about the time
Where fire was familiar to despair;
Despair who burnt a palace and left only behind
Guilt that became familiar to the day-to-day living
Of the one who became acquaintances with the sun

The sound of the flute is familiar to a childhood
And a place where autumn is endless
To the time when astral beings align
Where the sun stays awake at night,
And the moon learns what is like to burn alive

The travelers are familiar to me
As lost memories from an inexistent past
Slipping away from my fingers
That are strangers to someone else’s touch

My only want in life is to be famous
To used pens and filled sketchbooks
And to be remembered by none