WordTapestry

Fish When  I first saw you,  you took my breath  away. And with you by  my side, I forgot that  I needed air to survive. I forgot that I was ever  human, as the days  seemed to quicken along  with the thudding  of my heart.  Now that you're  gone,  I have realized  I am nothing but  the fish you swept to shore.  And try as I must, I still cannot breathe. 

In the Sand In the ruins of a forgotten playground, there kneels a woman in the sandpit. Her hands are shoved wrist-deep into the gritty sand—she digs with the desperation of a pirate in search of treasure. Around her, the wind ambles lazily through the trees. The motion makes the swings creak hopefully. Perhaps one day, the children will come back to play. Perhaps one day, but not today. The woman continues to dig even as the rain begins to fall. When her fingers finally scrape against flesh, she sits back on her heels. In her hands, she cups something warm and fragile—something she had lost long ago. Something she had to give up to grow up.  Her heart. 

Félicette   Félicette,                               Félicette.  Though back                        then you  never knew a name. Oh, to be a cat swept off the lonely streets, into the arms of a white-coated man who promised you everything. To be a cat called by a number,  Trained and disdained, but at least you were free from the gutters.  Sent into the embrace of the night sky,  In the name of honor.  Was the darkness more beautiful,  I wonder,  than the unforgiving world you were born into? 

Weathering Away Some days,  As the boy  feels the softness  of his dampened cheeks,  He is glad that he  was born of flesh and  not of stone, Or else you would  be able to see  every bit of life's anguish etched upon his face. 

stardust I am not afraid  of death,  because I know  one day  in the faraway future when these words  and their writer  are left to rust,  when civilization itself  is ground into the dirt, I will be reunited  with my lost cousins,  the novae and nebulae, the moons and the asteroids, for what are we,  all of us earthlings,  but children of stardust? 

The Fisherman and the Sea On the edge of a cliff overlooking the tempestuous Sea, there is a little cabin with a thatched straw roof. The cabin is home to a young fisherman with wild eyes. The walls stink of rot, and the fisherman’s teeth grow yellower by the day—but still, he lives.  He lives because the Sea will not let him die. He lives because the Sea is lonely, and he is inescapably mortal, and she cannot bear him betraying her in death.  "I love you," She tells him each day through the wind. "I love you." He no longer responds. Though the Sea has infused the fisherman with enough magic to keep him alive, it is not enough to keep him human.

Mold You are the mold that grows on my bones, and though you suffocate me,  I smile because at least I am not lonely. 

Sky I wonder when whales get swept  ashore,  is there a  brief moment,  the blink of an eye before their body,  so much larger-than-life,  betrays them, when they look up at an endless blue sky and are reminded  of home?

  Doe Eyes As you look at me  with your eyes  still crusted with sleep, the amber rays of morning  caressing your skin,  I am suddenly reminded of the doe I saw  one afternoon by the lakeside.  With her dappled neck held high,  she stared as I passed by.  For a heartbeat, we locked eyes,  just two earthlings killing time. But then, entranced, I let out a breath, reached out my hand, and those doe eyes broke away  from my gaze, and away she leapt into the  trees beyond. 

                                                                                               Talons Deep in the heart of the forest, there lived a boy with talons for fingers. Day by day, it became clearer to him that he could never hope to mend or create with his twisted hands — he could only hurt. Try as he might to be gentle, he could hardly hug his mother for fear of making her bleed.      Horrified with himself, the boy left home one night and began his journey through the surrounding forest with nothing but a loaf of bread and the clothes on his back. He had heard rumors of a benevolent Fairy King who lived high in the trees and granted wishes to the brave. And so for three days and ...

Two Hands Sometimes I wish I had more than two hands, because maybe if I had three or four more, then I could hold together the fragments of you, catch your tears in my cupped palms, and feel their warmth slipping between my fingers. Perhaps then, I would be able to soothe you properly and wipe away the all the horror of your fears.

Six Years When I was six years old,       I wore plastic tiaras and long dresses,  Short hair and muddy hands. I fancied myself a princess,  So for Halloween,  That was exactly what I would be. When I was six years old,  Days lasted for weeks.  When I looked at the sky, I saw animals,  A duck here, a rabbit there,  Softness everywhere.  When I was six years old,  I played for hours on my own,  and it didn't matter that I was alone  because I had big enough dreams to fill my time and my home.  When I was six years old,  I didn't know what I was capable of, And still I believed that if  I really tried, then, I could do anything. When I was six years old, I was naive, maybe, but  so carefree, I think my default emotion was to be happy.  When I was six years old,  I don't think I ever imagined,  that to grow older is to be changed. To be marked up with a red pen, To be put in a line...

Antlers It was ten past midnight when an infant was born with skin the color of a new bruise and hair matted with red.     The blood had not yet cooled when the father knelt in the yellowing winter grass, begging. He knelt because his wife was dead, though her screams still echoed in his ears. He knelt because his son, the last of his family, was dying.  "Please, God," he wailed, "don't take him too."      God didn't answer. But someone else did, someone—or rather, something—darker. And this something, this piece of the night, agreed to spirit the boy away from the threshold of Death. It agreed because in his desperation, the father forgot to be wary of the creatures that dwell in the shadows; rather, he pledged he would give the spirit anything it desired, if only it would let the child live.      "I shall save him, but he will come back to you less of a human than I." The spirit told the father. "And when the ...

Glass Heart Come to me with your  broken glass heart.  Though I cannot fix it, I will take  the shards  in my hands and bear the sting  that they bring, all so that  I can attempt  to warm  the pieces of you. 

Wildflowers I wish everyone knew that  you don't have to be good, you don't even have to be great, to be alive. And neither do you have to repent, kneeling there on broken glass, for the imaginary sins  that come with being.  Here on this earth,  you only need to exist to let your hopeful, hopeless heart love. And as you tear yourself apart fiber by fiber,  for simply being human,  know that somewhere,  in a grassy clearing by the side of a desolate road,  there are wildflowers.  Thousands upon thousands of them,  blooming through storm and sunshine,  living simply because they were blessed with life. As you struggle to find yourself, know that the world still goes on. The clouds keep travelling  their lonely route over valleys and rivers and mountaintops. The waves keep rising and falling in harmony with the moon, Lulling boats to sleep every night.  The sun keeps bringing light to fields and forests, to cities and towns,...

Nine Lives If I had nine lives, As the fabled feline does,  Here's how I would spend them:  The first life I'd live out at the docks,  Where the air is cool and light.  I'd dip my toes into the sea every morning,  And spread a blanket to picnic each night. In the second life, I would move to the city, Where the lights are never dimmed.  I would befriend the pigeons and the crows,  And tie up my hair each day with bows. I'd spend my third life traveling abroad,  Finding new homes everywhere.  I would work as a journalist here and there,  And note down generations of stories to share.  Lives four and five, I'd spend at home Since even an adventurer needs to be alone. I'd dream up worlds from the embrace of a sofa,  And admire the life outside my little window.  I'd live out my sixth life in the countryside,  Listening to the symphony of birds and bees. I would tend to the chickens each morning,  And stay up 'till t...

Parti Vattene, per favore. Non voglio vederti di nuovo.    Detesto che vedo stupore Nel tuo sguardo amabile.  Ti dolsi mille volte, e tottavia ritorni Perché non porti rancore contro me, Nel tuo cuore gentile? Ti guardarmi con  I occhi come stelle  In un cielo sempre più scuro… Ma non ho il coraggio per amarti.  Vattene, per favore.  Trova qualcuno di valore. Mentre la tua anima è di fiori,  il tuo spirito è di fiamme. Io sono di marciume e ghiaccio. Ti divorerò e lascerò solo i petali dietro. Quindi vattene, per favore. Non voglio vederti di nuovo.

                                                                                                 You and I                   My love,                                                                               Light of my days,                It seems like centuries have passed,                    ...