On Our Sentences

One sentence, they wrote, and a hundred fingers set to keys and responded.

Many points were made, many fears were shared, and many hopes exhumed. A simple communication of what is to come and what we shall leave behind, a legacy confined to the limits of punctuation. 

But what was there in each small scripture, what stood in a crowd of thousands and screamed its way out of the screen, what was there in disguise and in plain, what was dancing its way across each cleverly crafted poem and story, what took center stage in every excellently educating piece was

love.

Posted in response to the challenge Hope & Resilience.

twoblueviolets

OH

16 years old

More by twoblueviolets

  • learned defeat

    sewing soft stitches in unnerved unsteady lines 
    still new at old practices, still young as the thread winds 
    around a needle’s head, through the almost-fabric like 
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  • grateful

    Breathe. 
    In. Out. 

    A calm breath, 
    a solid moment stuck 
    in the middle of chaos.

    Count to a number you call 
    lucky. Every number is lucky to somebody.