we pray to all the wrong things.
what happened to holding the carousel bars
and tossing our hair back as we scream
for the end of the world,for the hurricane song
for the lullabies hidden in crooked eyes?
what happened to those days that
threw themselves off of buildings,
stretching on ends that didn't match,
oxidizing their own angles looking
for four walls and stone steps
to name four letter words?
why did we let them fall away?
when did we forget that twisted
spines with wings, and feathers
that look like lollipops only
know how to fall, and break?
when did we forget that those things
are fragile, empty, damaged, ephemeral?
maybe wishes only come true, when we
chase them like skeletons dancing on
our palms, across the country; when
we follow them into secret places
beneath the earth, hiding from our
feet, into the hollows of the water?
hope comes from the ground.
hope slips from the crevices.
it will never land in our hands
from places far away that don't exist.
it's the words we whisper when no one's
listening to the girl whose crying
across the hall way, and somehow
she looks at us; it's the echo of our
lungs when we stop breathing so
someone else can; we can't feel it.
but it's visible, mold-able, touchable.
our scars can rub against it; can
change it into something tangible.
it doesn't go down. only up.
maybe, we are meant to pray
the caverns stretching their
limbs tight enough to hold us,
the bees that dance in our heels
pushing black and yellow pigment
through our catalysed veins.
maybe, the temples without gods
exist where the volcanoes were
born, where we came from,
once.
maybe that's supposed
to be our religion.
not fairy tales that
don't ever stop
falling.
Author notes
i hope this is okay. my focus was on the ground on depicting the sky things as fairytales/not real/ or tangible, without describing stars.
sry it's long
w r i t i n g 0 f r e e d o m
A contest entry
- so real by alaska..
2600 points, ended November 17, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Comments
-
hope comes from the ground.
hope slips from the crevices.
it will never land in our hands
from places far away that don't exist.
-i really adore the sad elusiveness there. there's just something so untouchable. a soft, soft feeling.
but it's visible, mold-able, touchable.
our scars can rub against it; can
change it into something tangible.
-i think maybe you've overused the tangilbe thing here. it just felt a little over used.
but it's visible, mold-able, touchable.
our scars can rub against it; can
change it into something tangible.
-I LOVE THAT. mark it down:
caitlin loves those lines.
-
Wow
I am left with little short of WOW... this is very thought provoking, it goes so many places and there are layers of meaning everywhere... loved this part especially
it's the words we whisper when no one's
listening to the girl whose crying
across the hall way, and somehow
she looks at us
I suppose because I would have been then girl in the hall. lol... anyway good luck in the contest... this is the most interesting thing I have read in some time!
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