Amalie@kua

She wrote until her fingers carved groves in the silence and spoiled the blankness before. Then, she turned to each surface left unwrote and sang. The birch trees wept as she tore back the bark to reveal stories beneath. 

I await you in the open grass–

The rolling plains roam my mind

Dark-swept winds ride the horizon–

Damp with the promises you left unanswered

No. 

I refuse to be afraid.

We are so caught in the coming climb

We forget to turn and see the cliffs we've scaled.

I am living in a country where a woman is bracing for a climb to greater heights

Warriors seldom survive the toughest storms, but as they watch their kin fall. 

A wingspan of ash, she scours the sky for signs of a way forward.

Beneath, the writhing landscape of a future so foreign we cannot yet comprehend which color she will be.