She hovered her hand
a breath’s distance
above bare, brown ground
her lips performing the sacred
enchantments,
and waited for water
to come.
When none pushed
through the solid earth
she dug a tiny knife from
a worn leather pouch
which hung, hidden mostly,
in the folds of her colored skirts
and scratched the dirt
scratched in little gentle lines
a reminder to the spirits
slumbering
beneath
that no rest is forever
and rivers never sleep.
About the Creator
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Vanessa Jimison and writers in Poets and other communities.
An Unfinished Poem is Like Banana Bread
Have you ever taken a loaf of banana bread from the oven, and tried to pop it out of the pan right away? It’s too tempting to resist, and more than once, greedy for a slice of hot bread covered in my favorite Irish butter, I have made this mistake. The bread plops out, still steaming, and stubbornly refuses to maintain its form. Removed from the stoneware too soon, it slumps and falls inward on itself, no longer the sleek golden loaf it was meant to be. Any attempt to slice a normal piece from it results in a mound of crumbs and sadness. An unfinished poem is exactly the same: when it’s not quite done, it needs to be left alone for a bit — otherwise, it falls flat. The ideas that originally filled your mind must “cool,” and the trick is to take a break and come back to it later. In the cooling off, clarity crystallizes, and your ideas can break free from the restraints of the writing process. You’ll be able to return to it with fresh eyes, and carve from it exactly what you wanted — but giving yourself the time away is a crucial step in the completion of a good poem. Like all art — baking included — the master must learn from her creation the delicate and critical wait. It’s easier to butter a slice of bread than a mound of crumbs, and it’s more pleasing to read a poem that has been polished and perfected than one that has been rushed. In both cases, the wait is worth it.
By Vanessa Jimison3 years ago in Poets
I want to grow
I want to grow and I’m going to grow. I’m not going to be this version of myself anymore and you won’t know who I become. You won’t talk to her, or be by her side as she goes through life— you won’t know her. Her heart won’t even remember the small moments that’ve clung to it for so long. I’ll watch her embrace a new life that has nothing to do with you, and there won’t be a space waiting like there has been for far too long.
By Aathavi Thanges4 days ago in Psyche
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.