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
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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 They grovel before me, those blue flowers
Wilting in my golden glare They do not know why they tremble Yet they see my blinding petals My thorns etching the earth The throne I sit on, a tower they cannot climb And I laugh, each cackle raging against …the glimmer of starlight above So far and untouchable Two birds squat on the dirt
Soil soothing their weary plumage And the sky sets far beyond their heads Turning them small Just specks in the dust Yet, their pleasure glimmers More radiant than the stars Maybe it’s a ghost, I say
As I duck under the tree Little branches, blooming with buds That taste my black hair As the wind swoops around me to reply, Of course I am, silly, don’t you know?... Yet, I keep on walking My sneakers sinking into damp soil And my eyes squinted against the sun Because even if it is a ghost, Well, who’s to say I’m not one? Summer glides on brown wings that
Soar toward amber oceans Open doors release giggles that Orbit through the moist air Numbers patter on the kitchen table while Noise chatters from the trees Yearnings are wiped away by Yawns of night time creeping in And here we are playing Again, my mother wins I realized something the other day
As I rode down the street from Lucia’s house Power oozing into my legs As my feet shoved against my pedals Cats will be my doom And…yes, I know it sounds crazy My friend Isabelle already told me But I know it to be true I saw an amber cat yesterday As I stepped out of my building My backpack weighing on my shoulders Cluttered with sixth grade junk It perched on the wooden fence Just watching with beady brown eyes Waiting for me to slip, slide, and Stumble into its grasp Hold on...can cats even grasp? It doesn’t matter, for it waited all day When I returned, my feat heavy, My eyes sore, my mind drifting There was the amber cat, still on the fence Beady brown eyes watching For me, Leila Lavada, to meet her doom Trembling, I paused, eyes ducked Ready to submit to my fate But then...the cat left Hopped away Into the trees A mountain can command a hill
Threatening all light to stand still Still, a bird can fly free Yet, belong to the mountain still But, shimmering in the water Underhill, the fish do not follow There are jewels shimmering tranquilly That belong to the mountain’s daughter Games will be played across craggy cliffs Knights, kings, queens in the abyss Yet, the daughter’s gems are missed For they count more than caverns-filled No one comprehends this riddle For they are lost in their idyll Underneath the mountain that stills Forgetting that it means more to be still than be stilled |
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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