creative writing – Stranger Paths

Perception

They mistook ignorance for courage

A child chasing fires thinking they
were fireflies

Innocence of a hand that’s never been burned

One that hasn’t learned that everything dies

Soul

The world is ending

Can’t you tell

They stole her sun

They dried her well

The moon is lonely

The days are dark

And I am watching

A tiny spark

Daring to call itself a flame

You know it by a different name

Pyre

There were ugly things crawling in her reality
Nightmares becoming a background noise
She turned a blind eye to so many
And became blind all at once
As the pyre lit
She stood thankful for its warmth

She lacked a sewing kit
To piece herself back together
The threads ran free
She looked for a lost tether
As she unraveled
She knew She might get lost
And what another move could cost
She spun
Until she vanished in thin air
The ballerina could no longer care
About what tied her to this realm
And she set herself free
From all of them
Of threads too thin and shoes too tight

The ballerina still dances through the night

On a stage of her own making

The Lake Creation

She was an ocean

Feeding a calm river

She was a storm

That he wanted to weather

She was essential for his survival

In his eyes

She had no rival

So he decided to live on

Making friends with the waves

Memories with the whales

Befriending the creatures of her own creations

Until she became a lake

Feeding a small nation

Redolent

I close my eyes

And fool my senses

And take barbed wires

For picket fences

Redolent of the ostrich

That did not want to see

Her world as it appeared to be

Imagination growing

Knowing

I’m ALMOST free

Dappled

I still see it
Through my brain’s eye
The dappled floors
As I skipped the halls
Sunshine covering me
Heat much too dry
School in the desert
Memories passing by
I

Let

Them

All

Winds and Memories

This familiar wind

Hot and dry

Carrying pieces of my old self

As it hurries by

And smells that no longer exist

Perfumes no money could buy

This familiar wind

Carries pieces of my old river

Euphrates

Reminding me of nights spent together

Eating ice cream

Watching the candles light up the stream

Making wishes

Dreaming a dream

This wind passes much too quick

And I rush looking for a jar

Or a bottle

I want to save you

For my selfish reasons

And trap you

Like the memories that trap me

In a place that I no longer know

If it still exists

If it could resist

The bombings and the shootings on a small town

How could you, wind, turn this around

And take me to a moment of peace

As I float

Another piece

Of history

That no one remembers

Organic matter

That’s easily recycled

Easily blended

Easily camouflaged

Between the wind and the sand

I reach out my hand

As if to hold yours

My old self

You did good

You escaped that neighborhood

Where no child, or adult

Was safe

Where bombs did not discriminate

Stuck between love and hate

You soared far

And maybe you have the winds to thank

Or a God somewhere

Watching a dreaming child

And allowing her to yet dream

Oh how these dreams have changed

How your life has changed

Old self

You did great

Alien Hopes

I was hoping for an alien invasion

Maybe then

The question of

“Where are you from? “

Could be easier answered

And I could say

“Earth”

And no one would follow with

“But where were you born”

I was hoping for an alien invasion

So I could no longer be called an alien

Such as my luck

No alien cared to make my hopes true

And I still look at you

Unable to speak

The language I grew up

Speaking

Tag: creative writing

Reincarnation |Video