Ten

The world has gone winter white outside my window.  Everything is soft and still and silent. I’ve been inside my home for five days straight – save the one urging of bravery to explore the wonderland, which resulted in a wrist brace and bruised backside.  Ice is pretty, and dangerous. I turned ten years old this week, in faith.  I’m actually closer to thirty – if you’re adding up the storied rings on the tree trunk – but only these last ten have been beautiful. I don’t count the years before I met him. I get a little misty eyed and contemplative on my birthdays.… Read the rest...

The Invitation

I feel the stir of rippled wind as it passes over and causes my skin to flame again. This horrid summer is slowly waning.  With deep breaths the world clings on, and the heat lingers long past the time it should be gone. I tried to escape to the mountains two weeks ago. I desperately searched for a new season, hoping it had come sooner in another’s pasture. Instead I encountered an unaltered earth; forests of dense trees and pristine waters slowly trickling by reflecting the evergreen… It was then I discovered that brooks don’t babble, they laugh. I sat upon a quiet blue ridge watching the sunrise, and praying that the newest blades of light would change this condition.… Read the rest...

War

My fingers drew out the lines and traced the address of an office building onto the paper. It’s the only place left that I know to send a letter to my father. The truth being that I do not know where he lives. I do not know the place where he lays down to sleep, or the condition of his rising. I do not know if he is lonely, or if he misses me, or our family. I do not know if he is reading this, or if he is too busy working. I do not know the color of his rented dinner plates.… Read the rest...

I Must

I used to dream of quiet things; of a life stitched together by words and hopes and whispers, or the stillness in an early morning spent alone on a silent path atop a misty mountain. But what would it profit me there, searching my soul and baring my heart to the trees and leaves and songbirds? What would it profit the world? I could pass a day, a month, a year and there would be no sound from my lips to another’s ear. The world would continue on, and I in quiet wonder, would make no mark save a shallow footprint upon an empty, untraveled trail.… Read the rest...

The Making

I turn, slowly surveying this room, trying to glimpse the girl I was before the summer started. Perhaps I’ll catch the shimmer of her skirt as she slipped off into a damp, green field of grass, or the float of her hair held up in the breeze. She was unwise and wild as she stretched her bare feet out onto a lawn of lilac. A simple child, she believed the spring would never end. She is gone now, replaced instead by this storm wearied woman who stands before you secure and unmoving. Winnowed down to the strongest pillars of construction, what remains is but a marble carving, eroded by experience and emotion into something entirely new.… Read the rest...