Jan 14
Anne with an 'e''s picture

Safekeeping

I have a secret place tucked away in the deepest corner of my mind. This place, a forest with dark, stately pine trees brushing the clouds with their furry fingertips, it is a place that I like to walk barefoot through. I let my toes spread over the thick pine needles blanketing the forest bottom, and this magnificent tickling sensation shoots through my limbs. I tilt my head back and see a ring of treetops encircling me, I catch a glimpse of the big dipper and a shooting star seeping through the branches. The spotlight of the moon outlines my shadow, and casts light on the rough tree trunks I stand beside. I am tiny compared to these tree trunks. They are powerful, shooting out of the Earth, and I am only resting the palms of my feet on the surface. I don’t dig deep the way they do. Even so, I venture further into this forest, deeper, and deeper, until I am no longer surrounded by pine trees. My naked toes are sinking deep into white sand, soft as silk.
Dec 10
Anne with an 'e''s picture

I Have Proven

I finally taste a lick of success,
a pinch of pride, 
but you are just one step ahead,
waiting to make my tongue taste
bitter and fuzzy.

I have my arms outstretched,
as happiness and joy blow through 
my hair like a wind gust on the highest
mountaintop,
but you are there to turn my gust of joy
into a tempest of pain. 

I finally feel like one whole piece again,
like one united front standing against
a whirlwind of waves,
but you are there to 
drown me in salty water. 

Now I must rebuild,
and I think you should watch me.

Watch me make a better,
stronger dam.
Watch me summit
new mountaintops,
and feel stronger
gusts of joy, of pride.
The truth is,
I do not fear you.
I welcome you.
Your judgments
and criticism,
your disrespect,
well they just
give me one more chance
to show the world why 
Dec 03
fiction 0 comments challenge: Snow
Anne with an 'e''s picture

The Sting of Snow

Pat, pat, pat, crunch. Pat, pat, pat, crunch. That is the sound my boots make as they penetrate the icy snow. That is the sound I am trying to focus on as I walk home from school and my ears turn pink from the chill of winter. That is the sound I am using to distract myself from what I am really thinking about, from what I can’t help but think about. My best friend, Sam. Sam who has held my hand for the past seven years, ever since first grade when she was the only empty seat left to sit next to at lunch. Stop- don’t think. Look at the snow, the way it weighs down the branches, the same way this burden is weighing down my shoulders. This burden of losing my best friend, my only friend. Look at the way the flakes gently stroke my face as they fall. Study the rabbit footprints that mark up the surface of the pillowy drifts that twist around tree trunks. Just don’t think.
Nov 29
poem 1 comment challenge: Trees
Anne with an 'e''s picture

The Man in the Suit


The Lorax tried,
but he couldn’t stop him.
It is my turn to make him
understand.
I speak, my leaves brush against
my fellow saplings.
I feel, my roots dig deep into the soil
and I hold hands with baby maples.
My home is this Earth,
and my job is to breathe.
I can not breathe if you light
my branches ablaze, if you
cloud the air around me with
smoke.
My roots cannot sink deep beneath
the soil if your machines
continue to rip them from the ground.
I can not live if your
need for Palm Oil surpasses
my need for a clean forest bottom.
I wish your machines
would fall silent,
and I wish your egos and
greed would let up for a few seconds,
enough seconds for me
to take one more breath before ash
fills my lungs once more.
I feel myself speaking,
I feel my leaves rustling,
and yet I feel
like no one is listening.
Audio download:
The Man in the Suit.m4a
Nov 27
Anne with an 'e''s picture

A Nameless Companion

She grasps my lungs,
her strength and power fastening me into hypnosis.

Her presence
drums
beats
howls in my ears.

A rope tied around my ribs
my heart
my mind.

A hostage in my brain,
she holds a cold hand on my back,
and ghosts above my body.

I have spent my life running away from her.

Watching her shadow
fade to a dot behind me,
only to once again
see her occupy my soul.

Spiral
spiral
down a flight of stairs,
a familiar tunnel,
I begin to fall to her mercy.

Once I have control,
she becomes a tool,
one I can use to seek ambitions,
to chase success.

But she will lasso me with fear,
and once again,
I lose the upper hand.

Making me see
failure
shame
guilt.

Making my mind
spin,
making me wish
I could hide from her,