In Mary Jane’s house


Memories of my past stain my mirror.

So that even on sunny days, I still hear the rain.

Even when I have reasons to smile,

the echoes of my tears flood my reflection,

casting shadows on my dreams.


But there are no mirrors in my Mary Jane’s house.

My shadow doesn’t follow me beyond her front door.

She wipes away the footprints of my past,

and lays a new track towards my future.

She uses every shove I ever received to mold me into who I want to be.

There are no mirrors in Mary Jane’s house.

No reflections, just revelations.




Someone told me

Someone told me that we are not important,

that everything that has life will decay .

Someone told me that we will all fall like wilted leaves,

and we will soon lose our color.

Then again, if I’m falling hand in hand with you,

if I’m falling with you,

then I’m the lucky one,

to have you by my side as I fall.


Someone told me that the sunsets we get to watch are numbered,

and you can count them on your fingers.

Then again, If I’m watching the sunset with you,

and we are counting on our fingers how many sunsets we have left,

then I’m the lucky one,

to have you by my side as I watch them.




Biographical Note for Deborah Fordjour

Deborah Fordjour is a student at Bryant University in Rhode Island where she majors in Economics, and minors in Sociology and Finance.

She is originally from Ghana, West Africa. She enjoys learning about different cultures, and expressing herself through music and poetry writing.

This is her first published poem.