Comfort in the Splinters - By Sophia E. Young

Written By: Sophia E. Young

Category: Poetry

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Sophia E. Young presents a thought-provoking piece titled "Comfort in the Splinters," contributing to the Poetry category of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. In this evocative work, Young explores themes of introspection and the delicate balance between isolation and connection. The poem invites readers to reflect on the personal spaces we create and how they shape our interactions with the world around us.

About the Work

"Comfort in the Splinters" delves into the nuanced relationship between the self and the barriers we construct. The imagery of the fence serves as a powerful metaphor for the boundaries that both protect and confine. The poem's mood oscillates between a sense of safety and the yearning for freedom, capturing the tension of being both nurtured and restrained by one's environment. Sophia E. Young's literary style is rich with sensory details, offering a vivid portrayal of the internal and external landscapes she navigates.

The Fence

Original Submission by Sophia E. Young

Comfort in the Splinters By: Sophia E. Young

The fence grew overnight,

The way worries do-

Politely, without asking the soil first.

By morning it had learned my name. Each plank leaned inward a little, As if listening.

I told it secrets to test it.

It kept them,

Held them with careful hands, Safe and sound,

How it keeps everything.

There are spaces between the boards, Thin as held breath.

My fingers slide through easily, As though the fence knows

I would inevitably try

To escape.

On the other side the world moves, In wide, careless gestures- Arms swinging, voices spilling, People shaped like they belong To open places.

I try to wave.

My wrist catches.

The fence apologizes in splinters.

I realize,

Solely for a moment,

The heat the fence put in my wrist

As I twisted it.

A comforting sense,

A kind warmth,

A blister or splinter or two

That takes me out of my own head.

“Stay,” it seems to say,

Though its mouth is only grain and sun-bleached quiet. “You are safer when you are smaller,

“When you are less.”

I kneel to negotiate.

The dirt accepts me immediately,

Pressing cool signatures into my knees,

Inking the fabric darker and darker

As if trying to write me down

Before I change my mind.

Something seeps upward-

Not water, exactly,

More like the idea of sinking

Becoming persuasive.

I indulge myself as I so often do.

“I’m in the blue, my last bubbles gone.

The sky has closed its door,

The world of moss and small fish and murky bottoms around me a muted cathedral- Sound is swallowed, light is bending, fraying, as it reaches for me.

“It is not quiet-it is a siren inside my ribs-

A fist closing around my lungs.

Air becomes a memory I cannot cease to beg for,

Each not-breath scraping raw across my throat,

Each second a weight pressing harder inward.

My body burns with a weight that has no language,

A hunger that hurts everywhere, all at once.

“The pain is welcome.

“I cannot see the fence anymore.”

My thoughts drip through me

In the same slow way,

Beading at the edges,

Sliding downward,

Collecting in places meant for standing.

The fence hums its approval.

It likes when I am still.

It likes when I lean my weight against it,

When my forehead finds the warm plank

That fits the shape of my skull,

Too perfectly to be a coincidence.

I push my arm through the gap again. Out there my hand looks unreal, A pale fish testing the surface Of another ocean.

Wind touches it first,

Bold, in afraid,

Stroking the spaces between my fingers As if counting them.

I almost follow.

But my shoulder won’t pass.

The fence tightens politely,

A corset made of trees.

Not painful-

Worse-

Firm.

Behind me,

Something soft unfolds

Like a lap of a mother

Beckoning your entrance

To her warmth.

“You must be tired,”

Says the quiet,

Which now has a voice,

That sounds exactly like mine After midnight.

I sit without deciding to.

The ground rises to meet me

Like an accomplice.

Cool seeps through the denim,

Through skin,

Through whatever keeps a person outlined.

The fence leans closer.

Or maybe I am leaning.

It’s become quite difficult to tell.

On the other side,

Someone laughs-

A bright sound, round and complete. It rolls toward me,

Bumps against the boards,

Breaks into thin ribbons

That skip through the cracks

Already exhausted.

I father them in my hands.

They dissolve anyway.

“See?,” the fence murmurs

Through its patient grain.

“Out there is too loud for you.

“Too large.

“You would spill.”

My fingers curl around the empty air, Practicing holding nothing.

they fit through perfectly.

Something warm drips from my chin. I do not check what it is.

The dirt drinks it with enthusiasm, Darkening,

Memorizing.

Roots somewhere below

Shift closer.

Even the worms seem curious.

I lean back fully now,

Let the fence carry my weight. It smells like a lazy summer

Like rain remembered but not repeated.

“If you stay very still,”

It promises,

“You will become easier to hold.”

Already my legs feel distant,

Like objects placed in another room. Already the space behind my ribs Is filling with a quiet so think It could pass for peace

If you didn’t check in on me.

My hand is still outside,

Hovering in weather.

Anyone passing might think

Someone is waving.

No one waves back.

It would be rude

To interrupt a decorative thing

Doing exactly what it was built to do.

By evening

The fence has learned my shape.

It cups around me,

Holds me,

Embraces me.

I welcome its splinters in my back, “Don’t remove them,” the fence reminds me.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“The pain is welcome.”

“I need it. I want it.”

The gaps remain,

Kind, narrow invitations,

Just wide enough

To let pieces of me through

One at a time.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar celebrates diverse voices and innovative expressions across the world. This esteemed platform invites writers to explore their creativity, offering a space for thoughtful and compelling narratives in poetry and creative writing. Participants share their unique perspectives, enriching the literary tapestry with their authentic voices.

We extend our gratitude to Sophia E. Young for her poignant contribution, "Comfort in the Splinters," to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your exploration of personal boundaries and the human experience resonates deeply, leaving a lasting impression. Thank you for sharing your voice and enriching our understanding through your work.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.