poem

Photos, Writings

When Heaven Split in Ice & Fire


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Have I told you about that morning the 29th of January when heaven separated the world in ice and fire?

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How the sun sprinkled gold over everyone who witnessed it, and made a promise to the dead grass that spring will come and you will be in full bloom again, shimmering of green. Just wait. 

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And how it almost felt as if the world was tilting because of all the beauty it was beaming from?

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Have I told you that on that same day, in the afternoon, someone put a sheet of pastel-pink silk between heaven and earth?

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How it made the birds quit singing and the dog stopped chasing them? As if they too, were astounded by how their world suddenly appeared.

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I guess I haven’t. But now you know…

 

Writings

Teenage Misconception


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Her mama questions her

“What you need that for?”

“Your skin is perfect”

Another teenage-exploration mama thinks to herself.

Daughter, seemingly ashamed, takes the facial scrub into the bathroom

Dabs her face wet

Looks at her dry skin

Applies the scrub

And scrubs

Scrubs

And she scrubs

Skin falls down into the sink

Scrubs, harder

It doesn’t disappear

Scrubs

Blood splatter on white porcelain

Like a bleeding swan

Tears up

Scrubs

She panics

How can it not disappear?!

Scrubs ferociously 

Tears, blood, skin, chemicals blended into a devil’s stew

Scrubs

Scrubs 

Scrubs

Stops.

Looks at herself in the mirror

The realization hits her harder than anything she’s ever experienced

It won’t disappear

The fat is still there.

She whispers

“I’ll be fat forever”

Writings

Scorch & Burn


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I am scorching hot

I leave burn marks on his skin

Or at least he says so

I can’t see any

He touches me everywhere,

literally everywhere

It’s a tingling sensation

This

It fills me with self-esteem

I realize he does not want to be close

At times

He wants to remain close

Forever

I’ve scorched him

with me

And as his hand burns over my breast

My insecurities burn with it

Together

We ignite

 

Writings

**Busy**Uploading life to social media**


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I believe it’s not a matter of time and place

But about how we let us chase and be chased

By time,

By love,

By the worries of our child inside,

To experience wonder

– nowadays we demand thunder

It’s not enough with a train ride to the forest

It’s the urge to feel enticed,

Baffled,

Intrigued,

In awe,

Tricked,

All at once or it does not count

Where is the magic in the tiny moments?

Or, foremost, the ability to grasp them?

Have we all become major-moment-junkies?

We share snippets of filtered happenings to strangers

But seldom store them in oneself

– to share with loved ones around the dinner-table

The constant chase for something bigger & better

Leaves us missing life as it passes by

Writings

Shimmery shining doom


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“Maybe” I told him “- it’s midwinter now, hopefully the frosty glitter on the freezing trees will last until January.”

“Have you seen the way it sparkles at night? How the glitter plays in the light from the lampposts?” He did not answer. “Hello?”

“Yes, yes I have seen it, a long time ago.”

“But don’t you want to see it again?”

“It’s already fading. The temperature will rise and everything will melt, fall to the ground and be sucked up by the trees and the leaves again.”

His monologue started in adagio and continued in presto, his words, pumping out of him, harder and harder.

“And the glitter will never last until January, don’t you see it?! The glitter never lasts. It does not matter how much we try, the glitter will never last. It will melt and so will we or at least everything that was ever us. And when it happens we will be lost and sucked up by the memories we created together – “ he paused, to look at me.

“You’re not talking about shimmering trees any longer.”

He looked guilty, and when he spoke again his tone was soft, as if he tried to sooth me before I even knew I had to be soothed.

“We can’t go on like this. The magic, or the glitter, or whatever you want to call it, is lost. We’ve lost it.”

He walked up and put his hands on my cheeks, kissing me, and those lips, those lips sparked memories from our three years together. Right there and then I was cut off, laying bleeding on the floor, torn apart from the only world I knew. A world I was not welcome in any longer.

When January came I saw he was right, my tears were the only things glittering in the light.  

 

Writings

Our Independent Earth


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There lies truth in the morning
All dark except from shimmers of golden rays
A humbleness to the world
As if it awoke for the first time
Unaware of the circle of past, present, future
Of its’ inhabitants
Of its’ issues
You are ill world
I’m not the first to tell you this
The citizens of You are murderers
You are the victim
Sometimes you bite back
With earthquakes, volcano eruptions, tsunamis, draught, flooding
But it’s not voluntarily, the biting back, is it?
It’s simply your course of life
You respond to impact
Just as us humans
& when you wake up in the morning, the torture continues
The truth lies in the silence of the sunrise
If it wasn’t for us you’d be quiet forever
Untouched
But we make you bleed
Over and over again
We donate blood to each other
But who donates blood to you?
Who will save you?
If not, you?
When you become your savior
You’ll unknowingly kill us
This is your truth
That unbeknownst to you
You depend on nothing
and we depend on you
There lies your sincerity
There lies your truth

You are the true emperor of our World

Our World is You

– J

Writings

Lightning & Conductor – Such were his eyes in the morning


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Did he ever know how his eyes sparked in the morning?

Not at first, not those half-dreaming, limbo-sleeping moments, but then, when I touched him, gave him a smile and twinkling eyes – they sparked

As if though a lightning hit them and catalyzed energy into them

Maybe I was the lightning 

Maybe he was my conductor 

Did he ever know how I, sometimes, tested his affection for me, judging from his eyes, if they glistened or not. 

Imagine new-fallen snow in the first rays of sun in the morning

The glimmer it emits? 

Such were his eyes in the morning

New-fallen snow in the sun