maelynslavik

As I sit in the grass a sense of magic overcomes me. The mother of all, Gaea, is here.

I can’t see her, but I feel her presence everywhere. She is crying, sobbing, mourning her lost children, the trees, the birds, the bears, the flowers.

At school

we're doing a poetry unit.

"Oh cool, we write poetry all the time!"

My friend says.

What we didn't realize, though,

was that the teacher turned on the tap

to our inner selves

What if you were 

just 

a thought, 

an idea, 

a possibility, 

a thing floating 

with nowhere to 

Your God is not my God.  Stay with me now, I know this makes your hackles rise, your hands raised in the spiteful fear that you could be challenged. The fear of fraud.

They soar the skies, as free can be,

A gentle flap, a wind-carried wing.

Feathers drift through open air,

While oceans shimmer far beneath.

One could only dream to be

So unbound—so endlessly free.

she takes the stairs, 

her heels click clacking down the hardwood steps. 

she turns the tarnished silver doorknob, 

and the door creaks open. 

before her sits a man.