This musing on ‘Thoughts’ is contributed by one of our writers – Marika Rose!
Hope you connect as you read through her fleeting thoughts.
Your thoughts call my name from the dirt and the roots.
I cannot hear you over the noise.
My brain sounds like static.
Each indivisible moment piles on top of the next creating a blur that I can’t see through.
Fog. Thick fog. Thick fog rolls to the tops of my knees,
It’s hard to walk but at least I’m still standing.
The mountains beckon me forward
Come towards the river, wash your hands, eyes, shoulders.
Keep yourself clean so they can paint you with colors that make you dirty
Pick it out of the air, pieces of smooth mirror
And you’re laughing because you see the sky behind my eyes and you’re laughing pinching palms from hand to hand combat.
Each planet hangs in the balance, the balance is placed between two palms, the palms of a fortune teller, shuffling from hand to hand like a deck of cards.
Our cards shuffle in the decks of our lives, we all have hands we don’t show. You think you’re so high and mighty up there in your high chair but along with power comes consequences. You will fall.
And we will laugh
And cry and scream out until we are all undone.
Can you feel the trees growing around us, embedding us into the earth?
You blow into a piece of grass and it calls back to you, alerting the birds. They fly overhead. I hear them.
Share your story – https://thescribbledwritings.in/tell-your-story/
Follow Us On: