Soft ground and small feet helped me navigate. I was running through mud and snow, barefoot.
I chose to be free and wild in this nature. I had no fears. The home that I grew up in was full of sharks and danger -- mother so sweet but I chose crazy. The ants that crawled around the yard and the trail to my own haven. We built the world out of pine trees. We burned our clothes and papers because it felt like we were camping every single day. The excitement and the love -- the bond of the kids in the woods. You would think we howled at the moon. We had a pool, small but deep enough for me to hold my breath, and swim in circles. This was the most I had in my entire life -- I had my body and the earth and it was all I needed.
Her hands Old and pockmarked, but smooth So carefully threading Her work is beautiful Her work is fragile Fabric and machine And needle and thread And she's created a masterpiece
His hands Rough and trembling But always steady When teaching another his craft Fishing pole and line Hook and sinker And he's created dinner.
Both hands so different Doing their own thing But aged with the same obstacles over the years. So similar in their eagerness to show others to follow in their footsteps. I can't decide whose I like best I love them both I love their hands And I love them.
crush (verb) to deform, pulverize or force inwards by compressing forcefully
that’s how my body felt every time he walked by pulverized and compressed. every inch of my being all of a sudden unable to function, is this why it is called a crush? because you literally feel like you are being crushed?
just him, his whole being, being wonderful, being kind, being him. crushing me the cold snow on by back as we lay next to each other on the snow, under the moon, me seeing shooting stars him not. me shivering him not me being in love him maybe not.
I sit in my room doing homework with my twin brother, Justin. Okay, fine, we’re just listening to music and texting to our friend, Leo. I can hear my nine year old brother bailey playing games downstairs, and wonder who he’s playing with. “Jessica, Justin, come down stairs.” I hear my mom call. I groan. Justin rolls his eyes. “I’m Jacob, not Jessica, mom.” I tell her. Again. I don’t know why I try, because she never listens to me anyway. We head down stairs. After we finish getting another lecture on how ‘we need to be careful!’, and ‘do we have everything we need?’ I get my shoes, mess up bailey’s dark brown hair, and we finally head downtown to meet Leo.
Pluto stepped into his workshop. He scanned the area. In the corner, a shelf of mud and clay pulsed with energy. Pluto smiled coldly, then glanced down at the ebony ball resting in his hand. He finally had it! The last thing he needed to overthrow his brother Jupiter and claim control of the world….
Pluto strode over to the shelf. Resting on its first level was a sphere no bigger than a grapefruit. It glowed angry red. “Fire,” Pluto mused, taking into account the forest that he had burned to the ground to find it. He moved on.
Next was an orb of as deep a blue as the ocean itself. “Water,” said Pluto, remembering the journey into the deep that he had taken to retrieve it.
On the next shelf was a triplet of orbs: the first milky white, the next sepia, the last purple.
Hey Earthlings, Care to put your phone down for a second while you read this? Yes, fully away, maybe in your back pocket--yes, there you go. Finally, we can get to the point. The point is you should be scared of me... deeply scared of me. The kind of scared where your hands shake, your head becomes fuzzy with fear and your arms quiver at your chest as you wrap them around yourself. Why? Oh, you must be pretty funny if you don't know. You've nearly ravaged me to death. Have you forgotten what kindness is? How the Earth below you is crumbling with every impact from nukes? How my resources are running out because you spend them terribly? How every single phone in your pocket is not made without abuse in another place? How I bet you didn't know that till just now? How forest fires have spread? How every day the temperature is rising? How my oceans are now filled with oil?
If I were to write a letter to me in ten years I'd apologize "I'm sorry I stopped you from doing what you wanted to do most." Yeah, afraid to join those clubs at school because I was afraid I'd look dumb in them. Mhm, worried that those older kids would frown upon your new face in their classroom. So scared that your hands would tremble upon thinking of school sports and activities. I'd apologize "I'm sorry I put you down about who you are." Made you look down at yourself for being something no one else wanted to be. Put you in your room to cry alone because your grades weren't the perfection you wanted them to be. Let you see the parts of the world that you shouldn't have had to witness. I'd apologize "I'm sorry I didn't let you feel what being beautiful felt like."
I cry every time I read I want those moments The moments that give someone meaning When I read those words and picture their lives All I want is to be them Or some version of them Not the ones that have the perfect lives Or the ones with the happy endings But the ones who keep going no matter what the world throws at them The ones who go on adventures The ones who have a friend who they can talk about anything with The ones who learn how to love The ones who would do anything to be with the one they adore The ones who enjoy their lives despite hardships The ones who have a story to tell Not always a good one But one that will have an impact on at least one person
I'm not asking for a different life All I want is to have those moments And feel some of those feelings And live a life that means something I know I won't get my perfect fantasy