Gathering the fabric of her skirt, she stretches an upward arm
Veins straining, she grasps a sturdy branch
Red ankles on display.
With a final heave, she clambers over
Flimsy sandals scraping the surface of its bark
She looks mournfully as a small shower of wood shavings float downwards-
like bits of paper cast from a building
It steals her sympathy for a moment
Before she turns,
And sees the whole world.
Nestled atop the highest branches, she smiles.
A strange feeling of vastness pools in her heart
Silently, she searches for the words to describe this
This perfect, lonely moment of peace
A oneness with creation
Of infinity captured in this humbling smallness
To feel so tiny yet so loved.
Tilting up, a family of green rushes into her gaze
She pays attention to each individual leaf
Each one a different shade. “kelly green, juniper…” she notes under her breath
Twirling in the breeze to a soundless tune
Only they can hear.
“Funny,” she mused, “how they speak by just being”.
Against the sky’s sapphire blaze, a light rain pelts on her bare arms
With a quiet farewell, she makes her way down
A duskiness has quickly fallen
Patient smears of light interlace with the gloom
Counselling the twilight to slow down
Dark clouds resist, orbiting the struggle between Day and Night
A mcflurry sky.
She goes yonder into the orange grove, a crisp breeze picking up
So ripe, the oranges seem to leak their very fragrance into the warm air
Inhaling, her lungs take in the sweet grass and spicy tangerines
Her eyelids droop
Soft, violet light floods the meadow.
Finally.
The Night is no longer young-it is the witching hour
But she isn’t spooked; just melancholic
Above, she sees Cassiopeia
Below, the ground has gone cold
Aching her now stiff limbs
Around, a nipping chill pricks her skin
I could hear her bones quivering
In a warm body of flesh,
She was cold and just a smidge sad
So I magicked a gown of moonlight
and bid the astral winds carry her to me
Carefully I hung starlight on her temples
a bridal veil; for my love
Night dew on curly lashes
slightly, perfectly ghostly
She swirled in slow, dying cirques; like the last evening star
and I could only watch
breathless,
as she and the moon wed each night
She was in love once-it was a long time ago
Yet, she cannot forget.
Nor can she remember.
She searches for his face in her memory-but it is like grabbing at smoke
Yet her heart beats with the memory of Him
Just flashes but they’re there- a warm palm, a garden more than Beauty itself
She cannot forget.
I would come by her green windows each morn
and we’d exchange,
Cool morning kisses
like drops of condensation on her butter box
She did always love drinking the wind
She never realized
How perfect her cracks were; a hiding place
for all the colors of the sun
Her heart of art
Painting a world that had forgotten to dream
It is the birds who wake her
She dreamt that her arms had melded into a strong pair of beautiful wings
And she had flexed her powerful muscles, brushing the loftiest treetops
But now she awakes, heavy and flightless
A longing- so, so deep her heart could implode
Warm tears course down her windblown cheeks
She climbs the tree once more and huddles in its deepest corner
Tasting the saltiness on her lips
“I know you’re real.”
“I can feel this invisible cord that knots my heart to yours. I never seem to make it very far before I feel it’s tug; sharp and painful, forever binding me to you.
Why would you love me only to leave me here in exile?”
The tears drip down her chin, knowing she would never get an answer
He, whoever He was had probably forgotten.
She thinks I’ve forgotten about her
but the truth is I never did
How could I forget her;
when it was thoughts of her soul
that filled my every waking moment
The sound of her light, dancing feet
before the sky opened its eyes.
I had to tell her.
‘Before I taught the birds to fly, before I lit the stars in the sky
I loved you.’
She was everything; a hundred granular wonders
breathed into one perfect, beautiful thing.
I never seem to make it very far before I feel it’s tug; sharp and painful, the cord of her existence forever binding me to her.
She never realized,
how she was a bonfire
in a world gone cold,
And so I needed her to stay- to warm the deep frost buried within most.
for she loved the world
and it loved her right back.
I had to tell her.
She was perched on Old Rocky; our cliff
the one that both thrilled and scared her- she did always like paradoxes,
said it looked especially good on people
‘kinda like You, ya know? You’re so quiet-but that’s what makes your presence so loud,’ she’d say against my chest.
I whispered down the breeze
And over the geysers, frosted pink in the cheekbone of day
Gently, so gently,
I came up behind her and brushed the reddest hair
the shade of cerise; so much that the strawberries believed she was one of them
“Because Earth is the right place for love.”
A quiet voice had spoken from the depths of her layered soul
“Because Earth is the right place for love.”
I sent her a flowering tree that day; a sign of hope
They came in flotillas, a bounty in their descent
She did always love almond blossoms
Oh, she loved them all; cherry, apple but almond best
a slice of the past, she called it
a time when the little painter fellow was truly happy
She sat and watched,
just as she had for centuries
Dying as soon as they lived; (how had she never noticed)
shrouding the earth with white hope
She hugged her knees to herself and breathed,
'I hear you.'
“And I’ll always remember this. Blue sky, cream clouds.”
Our little piece of forever.
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4 comments
Hi, Cola! I really enjoyed this story because of the beautiful language and scenery, but I'm not sure I understood what really happened. Clearly it is a love story, but between whom? The girl and... God?
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¡hola! thank you for reading, it means a lot to me:) but yes, its between the creator and creation🦋
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Wow, I think that is absolutely beautiful. It is striking and out of the "norm" for Christian fiction these days. I loved this!!
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I was initially unsure abt writing this poem cause God is never a popular topic😂 but I know I needed to carry on bcoz I really wanted to capture how tiny He is. It's sad that ppl often think Christians are in some master-slave relationship when really He's liek that sweet guy we keep ghosting who will still ask if we've eaten😂 I'm really grateful it reached a fellow believer even if only one; knowing that inspires me to keep writing:))
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