Contributor: Kharis Lund

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We are lying on a grassy knoll, just you and I
Your green-grey eyes speak of happiness, long lost
Happiness with me
The couple next to us is topless, drinking cheap beer and smoking spliff
You laugh a little and say, “So these are hipsters, eh?”
You in your plaid shirt and bad jeans, me content being sober
We stand out like aliens in the crowd of young drunk stoners
My Father and I

The crowd quiets, and beyond the stage, the sun sets between the Rockies
And the sky is bathed in streams of gold and pink and blue
I lie back on the checkered picnic blanket next to you
Down on the stage, with a beard and voice like some Wisconsin Jesus,
He laughs and begins to sing
The woman beside me is dancing – she’s happy and high as a kite
We jump up and join her, dancing and laughing
My Father and I

“And I told you to be patient, I told you to be fine,”
A million voices reverberate across the hill as it comes alive
We’re swaying together you and I like a dream I always have
But I know this moment is ephemeral.
Tomorrow I’ll wake up and look at my ticket stub
And that day and Justin Vernon’s angelic voice will be but memories
We are back to silence and nothing
My Father and I


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I'm on a quest for happiness and truth and sushi. Sometimes, it's hard to tell which is which.

Contributor: Kharis Lund

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I was walking home alone the other night in my tank top,
Found myself clutching my little pink pepper-spray in one hand and my key, sharp edge out, in the other.
I was afraid. I am afraid.
With pain in my heart
or head
or wherever pain is,
I realized my brothers would never be in this situation,
having to rush home looking over their shoulders.
They walk around like the world is theirs,
because, as of now, it is.

Me though?

I walk home afraid, because I’m a woman.
Because I’ve been taught that I am weak.
Because, right now, I am weak.
Weak from words that make me feel like I’m not enough.
Weak, because I’ve been taught my whole life that my body is a commodity to be taken advantage of - that it’s MY job to protect myself from that.

Thinking about all this makes me scared and sad,
but more than that, it makes me ANGRY,
because, it shouldn’t be this way.
I shouldn’t have to walk home like this and be afraid for my life,
the shadows turning into menacing figures at every step.

I should have been told that I was enough,
that I was beautiful,
that I was smart,
that I was important.
I should have been told that I was strong.
Because, I want this engrained gender discrimination to stop.
Because, I want to walk home and not have to worry about a single damn thing.
Because, I want to believe again the truth that I am strong.


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I'm a college student living in Seattle who would rather eat sushi than do almost anything else. I like good liars and good storytellers, and sometimes, I think they're the same thing.