The land was barren, the sky was black, despite that a brilliant silvery film shone through the thick silent darkness and over the glistening wasteland of pristine white. Sub-zero winds echoed desolation but managed to moan between iron thick frost. The ice-kissed world served as a moral reminder of death, it had kissed our now frostbitten lips and fingers yet, as dawn drew closer blinding through the silver lustre; the sky and earth seemed to merge and melt together. The horizon was boundless and seemed to have no end...

This new beginning served as an epitome of life and lush fertility..

Hope was once and for all - ignited.

Dusk always left wavers of crimson shades that bore resemblance to denouncement. The halt of light and diminished ignition of life, like scarlet velvet curtains drawn on the illusionists final act. It was the sacred sun that when rose kindled energy in our bloodstream and very nerves like a queen embellished by her beehive. The shone sun, lent hands to sunflowers that swayed obediently like monks who chant mantras with angelic faith while we painted clouds with our fingers to adorn the sun.

It is we, when blinded by the saintly sun at noon..

It is we, when the candle in us is extinguished by the faded sun -

who soulfully weep.

It is we, who cradle evanescent fireflies that glow freckles in the darkness as we choke on salt consumed by the heavy air..

and wait

and wait

for celestial zenith.

Dearest Elijah,

Neptune’s tide aligned with Pluto’s moon.Those nights, constellations formed an emblazoned peacock and my fingers found comfort in granulated crystal I dyed a pale pink and blue – I imagined it was stardust.

Was it the daze of the kaleidoscope that I confused with a gaze into a telescope? I cannot tell. All I knew was that dolphins were swimming in a galactic milky way and that my fingers’ wounds were undergoing the tribal healing process of sugar coating (with stardust).

The tap dancing of the rain on sunflower petals, somewhat brought me joy. The sheer connection of the sky’s clouds with the Earth was magical, almost as if they were in love; love that conceived the spring I was surrounded in. Love, that brought forth the scent of hyacinth flowers through the wet air.

Elijah..


My heart is a crater.

Ariela

She could feel her toes create

splashes of minute puddles as

they pressed on wet limestone.

The fortune-teller who smelled like oranges and tobacco had told her this day would come.

It was the careful undressing of an onion, that she skinned effortlessly with a knife, the onion she pressed against her lips, the onion that stained her fingers and perhaps goat blood she smeared on forest trees when she chanted black magic spells, the night of the lunar eclipse.

She trotted forward as if the music of the wind, the whistling wind-chimes and swaying trees had echoed a longingness in her.

As if the dark murky waters had called her home.