They tell me that there are witches in the air
You can see them when day seeps to night And their silhouettes prowl the walls “Sapphire,” others say to me, “stay inside, shut the door.” And I obey, but the witches linger in my mind Slipping around corners, robes trailing the stars Their eyes dazzle and beckon And I watch, envious, for they are free And I am not Until one night, I step out into the humid dusk Tip-toe across the road until I fade into The night, finally with the witches
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You would think by now I know
That the soil that builds me up Can only hold so much water Yet, I, Hinrik, still cling to that falsehood Clutch onto it, drowning it with me in the dirt So I sink ever lower and the sun, Abandons me as well But still my roots anchor Fastening to the crumbs below And fragile, patient, sturdy, I prepare to bloom What if I told you the moon is dead?
That the glowing orb you see every night Is collapsing with each tremble in the sky When it darts out from behind the clouds, It’s not smiling, it’s grimacing What will you say? It’s an unfair question to ask on my part I’m not even sure what I would say And I see it crumbling every day Feel the powder chafe my skin Sense its every groan It hurts, you know, but I’m the crazy one So I’ll just nod and sway with the moon Let everyone else continue along Admiring its artificial warmth Shielded from the knowledge that The moon is dead My mother says she carries history’s weight
My darling Zoe, tucked under covers, Is crushed beneath that which came before When she coos, swooping with the wind, I hear that heaving of bygone years Strung within that bronze-black hair Tangled with that breath echoing from peach lips “Mother, I am months old and already ancient” And I laugh, my own breath rising until it Tumbles down as tears that fall on her cheeks More weight from above descending And that ageless question: How do I, Lilly, keep the pain from growing? Keep the pain from stabbing the ground, poisoning the roots, grasping the air And no answer falls upon my ears Instead, only a burdened silence remains Until it is broken by my daughter’s breathing The sky was bright in my mind
As racing feet flung dust over concrete And my hands grasped the air To catch the sunbeam falling down Just out of reach While the bell whistled behind me Ordering me to return home And later, I thought, Sitting at my desk, notebook scattered, What might have occurred If I had simply kept running I would say I wanted more time
To finish that assignment That one dragging my heart And tackling my mind The one binding me to this chair Where I sit and cry And it wouldn’t be a fib Yet, there is something else Peeking out behind the door Warm, comforting, encouraging A friend with a smile, reminding me That I’m not alone And we still have time There is something I miss
About sitting on that swing My feet in the air As I tremble just a bit, Which is quite a feat, Not because of fear But because I am flying And I can’t find fear With the world beneath my feet Suddenly breaking into bits The wind in my ear Just Wendy on a swing And that’s something I miss Sun, I leap toward
Sand, stinging bare feet Harshly, shoved to the Side, where jeering Crowds, twinkle with Hope, for...for...for a Win, for their Favorite, sky glimmering Above, so bright and Beautiful, bird rises from the Ground, where I pant a Rhythm, echoes from the Feet, of racers before me yearning for a Victory, I already have as I face the Sun I’m a door shut closed at the end of the hall
Not one shout can barrel its way through Trembling, but sturdy, I command my wall And deep within my fibers do my thoughts brew But there is one key that can unlock my thoughts It’s bright, glittering, and has a golden hue Once it slips through my guarded gate My door slides open and laughter ensues Sometimes all I need is a rocketship,
I think as I sit in the night Alone except for a cup of tea That spills on my lap Bursting suns crackling against my hips And I wonder, Where might this rocket soar So newly sleek with adventures Glittering at its feet But so so lonely And trembling Then the droplets tumble to the Concrete and I blink Back on the ground And I listen to the Humming of a friend Bringing the Earth back to me |
AuthorI'm Darcy Ridge, creating stories that all revolve around family and identity in a myriad of ways. In the past, I have shared multiple stories and published a novella online. You can find me on Wattpad and many other social media websites. They/them [Image Description: black background with the words "Social Justice and Mental Health Resources" in white in the center /end ID]
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