a place beyond places
a name beyond names
theres a place beyond places
a name beyond names
known by those who forget
told by those who do not know
where time stands still
in the blink of an eye
where the trees talk to the sun
and the choir of eternity sings as silence
theres a place beyond places
where all hearts are one
where goodness is felt not heard
where the mountains lay no claim
to their mighty views
where strangers are lovers
and lovers are no longer estranged
theres a place beyond places
found by those who do not search
seen by those who listen
where directions are useless
and knowledge becomes vile
theres a place beyond places
where all worlds meet
all faces
races
every heartbeat
where light gives birth
to each day
each person a glimmering ray
home is not somewhere else
no matter where one goes
for the search for home
is that which takes one away from home
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thewanderingseeker
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Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
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