Michaela

@hthsmichaelab

Slice of Life 2015

32 posts

Just the Beginning

Day 31

It’s the last day??? I thought I would do something different, so here are some quick, not particularly good drawings that I started a while ago and finally finished today because I thought the idea was worthy of a “last but certainly not least.” (I’llprobablydrawmoreofthese.) And also, a related poem.

Won’t you love me

and release me.

My mind is a cage,

but I will break free.

I am bursting,

exploding.

Love me no longer

in shadows.

The world is a prison

but we will crack the windows.

We will burn down the walls.

The universe will not be able to hold us down

Love is limitless.

We have no boundaries.

Tell us to change,

but it’s not us that has to.

We’ll paint it in the sky

out of clouds and stars and sunlight.

We’ll set explosions for the world to see.

One foot in front of the other,

step by step,

we’re not going back.

This is only the beginning.

We’re just getting ready

to fly.

“I am become Death, destroyer of worlds”

Day 30

(The title is a quote commonly attributed to Robert Oppenheimer who created the first atomic bomb. He was actually quoting a Hindu scripture, his own translation of it apparently.)

Carefully

counting seconds.

Do not be a moment late.

For I will burn through clouds.

For I will bury those who wait

in darkness,

in shadows.

Do not hesitate.

For I will rupture the earth.

For I will crack its surface open.

Do not wait for me to come.

For I am smoke.

Seeping into unsuspecting lungs.

Kissing the lips of strangers

so they open their throats to me.

For I am thunder.

Heart-stopping noise.

Splitting open ears.

Breaking through skulls.

For I am dark clouds.

Billowing into the sky.

Coating the blue

in a thick haze.

For I am fire.

Burning holes in this world.

Bringing the sun closer.

Setting the air ablaze.

I am death.

Coming in the moment when you’ve

just woken from a nightmare.

I will destroy.

I will bury.

Day 29

The end of the world is coming Tomorrow, it approaches, rearing its ugly head. And the sky with be covered in lava and ash. The trees will be gnarled and broken. And our home will be lost. But until then, sit with me. Watch the clouds before they burn. Count the leaves …

dankpoetssociety

This is so beautiful, seriously.

Thank you so much!!!

The end of the world

Day 29

The end of the world is coming Tomorrow, it approaches, rearing its ugly head. And the sky with be covered in lava and ash. The trees will be gnarled and broken. And our home will be lost. But until then, sit with me. Watch the clouds before they burn. Count the leaves before they’re gone. Breathe in the flowers before they die. Sit with me. Wait with me. Breathe with me. You and I, we wished to see the world. We wished to live, to taste adventure on our lips and feel thrill in between our fingers. But the world will leave us behind, before we can grab the stars and swim across oceans. You and I, we were meant to have always. We wished for forever. Always is a lie. Forever is an illusion. The world is leaving us tomorrow. Hold my hand, tell me that a single moment can be forever. That always lives in the space between minutes. I will believe you. And when the corners of my vision blur, and the sky turns a fiery red, I’ll pretend it’s a dream that goes on forever.

Falling

Day 28 Won't you follow me down an endless wonder? It's so nice to fall and feel the wind blow my hair and snake through my fingers like ribbons of air when I reach my hands out and caress the strong gust. But the fall would be even better if I wasn't alone. Won't you follow me in a chasm of wonder? I promise you, it only looks dark from above. I promise you, you won't hit the bottom. Because this time, there isn't one. I know you can't see from up there. But once you jump you'll see the stars under your feet. Like candles lit below you. Won't you follow me over the clifftop and into the wonder? I know you're scared. I know the last time you jumped, you broke at the bottom. But take a risk again. Be brave. You fear the uncertainty and the past. But if you never jump again, you'll never get to fly.

Day 27

Lovely Chaos

Her voice split the sky apart, Cracked it, Shattered it Broke the world into pieces, Sharp shards to scar souls She made the stars fall, Wishes on destruction Set the clouds on fire, Burning rain, Scorching minds She’s chaotic, And her mind is set on you.

(And a bunch of pictures I took of sunsets because it’s kind of relevant?¿ depending on how you interpret the poem and also because the poem is really short.)

More

Day 26

Her mother came out of the hospital room after a worrying, heart-racing half hour with tears in her eyes and a smile stretched so widely across her face, I though her cheeks would burst upon from .  I had been taking uneasy breaths but now my lungs froze and the air was caught in my throat. I waited for her to say it but my heart was already fluttering against my ribcage in its euphoria.

 “It worked,” her mother told me after she wrapped me in a tight hug that squeezed the frozen air out of me. I felt myself breath again. I felt a smile paint its way across my face. I felt tears sting the corner of my eyes even though I had never cried from happiness before. “Go on in,” she said as she released me, “She wants to hear you.” 

I quietly stepped into the room, closing the door behind me because the hallway was louder and they said she might be sensitive to sound at first. She said she would only want to hear the important things first.  She also had tears streaming smoothly over her smiling cheeks. She wasn’t lying down anymore; she had moved so that she was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. She gestured for me to come over to her and then, not ready to use her voice yet, signed slowly, “Say something.”

 Suddenly I was so aware that she would hear me for the first time. I gulped, took a deep breath, and then another one. I spoke ever day. I had been speaking every day of my life and never had I been so questioning of the sound of my voice. Never had it meant so much to someone.  I stepped closer to her, and reached out with a shaky hand. I traced her cheek back with gentle fingertips and stopped just in front of her ear. What do you say to someone who can hear for the first time in their life?

 But I already knew the answer to that, and looking into her eyes that stared as intensely as ever, with a quiet but determined voice thick with everything I had felt for the past year, I said it.

 “I love you.”

(Romance??) (Very surprising, I know)

Reasons why

Day 25 - The sunrise on a day when clouds sprinkle the sky, hanging cotton from the blue blanket by invisible strings. - A long hug from someone who cares, from someone who will not pat your back awkwardly and murmur careful lies right into your ears. - Star-filled nights, fireflies rising from the ground, drifting upwards, being tugged on by the moon, blending in with the lights in the sky. - Laughter and the way it erupts from your stomach, and the way it sounds when it dances through the air from others' grinning mouths. - Rainy days, dark clouds filling the sky and familiar smells drifting from the dotted pavement, breathing and feeling. - Books with pages that seem to turn themselves, that suck you in like a drain collecting water, and bring you to an infinite world. - The first glimpse of warm weather when spring shyly starts to unfurl its beautiful petals and blow warmly on the world with sweet, smiling lips, - Doing something you love and letting it consume you in the best of ways, hiding all your worries away for a little bit, letting you breathe. - Feeling alive, like the world is not too big for you to be a part of it, like the stars shine tonight because you were destined to reach the sky.

Without (sanity)

Day 24 Listen to the darkness Strain to hear the music Wicked melodies of clouds brushing against each other and wind vigorously shoving the old, complaining walls Hollow holes, the whole world Can you hear it? A beating heart slow so very slow so very quiet pumping silent secrets and loving lies A dripping sound, thick and heavy splat in the corner sticky and dark Are you losing blood? Spiders are dancing on the dusty floor boards If you lay with your cheek pressed against the wood, you'll hear your breathing quick uneasy desperate and yet giving up You'll hear the ants crawling through your veins making you itch all over but you can never shake the feeling Strain to hear anything Imagine you hear whispers Whispering voices bouncing off walls bouncing in your head Whispering voices taunting you Flowing past your ears like floating rivers in the dry suffocating air Listen It's all you can do Your own voice would frighten you after all this time

A description

Day 23 As she sprinted through the overgrown grasses and flowers in the field, her short hair blew back off her face, a tangled mess fluttering behind her head. The flower crown she had made of tiny daisies had long since flown off her head and quietly fallen into its fellow flowers that spurted brightly, effortlessly from the ground. She didn't seem to care very much; she hadn't stopped running since the soft grass had found its way beneath her curious feet. She laughed, sending loud squeals into the sky to be carried to far off places by the currents in the wind. Her bare feet hit the ground hard, step after endless step, trying to find spaces in the grass where the flowers had not already built a home out of their roots. Her long dress was like rippling water behind her, swimming, flowing through her self-created wind. She reached the middle of the field and threw her arms out and her head back, letting the sun paint her face with brushes made of gentle rays of light. She looked unreal. Like I was dreaming up a mystical being to keep me company by twirling and giggling in the field that I had never had the honor of sharing before. I had been following her slowly and she looked back at me, winked with a mischievous, excited smile, and gestured for me to hurry up. And I did, because I didn't want the dream to end. (Note: this has the same characters as the story of the deaf girl asking about laughter and the other excerpt-like passage entitled something like "Part One of ?" Not sure how I'm going to connect everything yet..)

Excerpt

Day 22 (an excerpt from a book I will probably never actually write) In my dreams, I pretended she kissed me before she left. I pretended to feel her lips on my neck one last time. I pretended she said goodbye. And when I woke up, I could hear her. Her voice was trapped in the closed drawers and small corners of my room, and every now and then it leaked out and I could hear her whispering. Goodbye, she told me. Sorry, she murmured. But it was too late for a graceful ending, too late for apologies. Every morning was a new kind of hell. Her voice haunting me, even though she would never be able to shout at the clouds again, never be able to sing to flowers, never be able to whisper sweet things against my ears, into my shaky palms, to be protected by my closed fingers. I was wrong. I could hold her hand but it would slip away. I could try to hold on to her sometimes airy, sometimes heavy voice, try to clasp it in tightened fists, but it would leak between my fingers, seep through like water, like lost time. No longer pleasant. Only a bitter ghost.

Watch them breathe

Day 21 "Look at the trees!" She suddenly exclaimed.She had been staring out the window for about an hour. I followed her pointed finger with my eyes, past the glass and towards the distant trees we were driving slowly past. A few moments ticked past silently, but I didn't see anything special about the bare, dead trees across the field next to us. I shifted my gaze back to her, looking confused. "They're beautiful," she replied to my questioning expression. I waited for her to say more. She had the look on her face, the one when she was about to open her mouth and have poetry fly out like quietly tweeting birds in the morning. Words with such heaviness but they rolled off the tip of her tongue lightly, fluffy clouds on a bright, windy day. "They're like thin, gangly fingers, reaching up from the cold soil. Don't you see? They're finally waking up. And they're waving goodbye to the long winter, even though it killed them for a bit. And they're saying hello to spring, to the tiny flower buds too small to see, to the warmth, and the enthusiastic, welcoming rain. And they're so thin and gangly because they've spent the whole winter asleep. But now they can breathe again." I looked out the window again. She saw the world in colors I could not begin to imagine and listened to songs I could not hear. But for her, I would never stop trying to.

Open your eyes

Day 20 Are you truly so blinded by your own troubles that you cannot count the flowers growing at your feet? Cannot see the people watering them for you, because they know you believe that you're in a desert? I water your flowers and pluck petals from my own just so I can use them to dry your tears. It is never enough. And then you wonder why it seems that people no longer grow flowers for you. It is because you refuse to even look at them. You pretend that there is nothing at your feet but bare, dehydrated dirt. You are blind and yet you shout about never seeing anyone close to you. You hold your breath, afraid to breathe smokey air. You close your eyes because you cannot take anymore darkness. You cover your ears with shaking hands because you think the whole world is screaming. Breathe. Open your eyes. Listen. It is not all pain. You know that. But you forget. Remember the flowers that grow at your feet.

Aim with your heart, not your mind

Day 19 Shoot an arrow into the night. Maybe it will pierce the sky. Maybe it will rip a hole in the darkness. And maybe strands of the night will hang down and brush the earth with its stars. It's easy to shoot aiming at nothing. Pull back the string. Be unafraid. Tighten your arms, and then relax. You cannot point the arrow at yourself, and maybe that is why you are frightened. Pull back the string with shaking fingers and quiet breaths that don't grab nearly enough air. Clutch the bow with a sweaty hand. Remember to aim. Don't hold your breath. Breathe. One. Two. Three. Shoot an arrow, let it fly. Be unafraid. Shoot an arrow into the dark. Maybe it will find my heart. Maybe you'll hear my last breath. And maybe I will bleed out knowing that you finally pulled back the string.

Unafraid, Unwavering, Unfazed

Day 18 What you say I cannot do, I will do it. Just to prove you wrong. I will set my skin on fire to show you that I burn brighter than stars, that my skin is more than paper, that my bones are the interior of a mountain. I will run to far off places to show you that I have no limits, that I am not a flower, rooted to the ground - no, I am unstoppable. Do not underestimate me. Do not falsely believe that I am not stubborn enough to drown in your troubles, to stand in rain or snow or hail, to be hung from the clouds, hundreds of miles above any safety. Just because you are afraid does not mean that fear is my strongest emotion too.

Blind Faith

Day 17 She blindly immersed herself into the shadowed water, because it was beautiful. Because it called her name so sweetly, like fragile whispers of flowers in spring. It promised things that it could never keep. Consistency, though the waves were always changing. Safety, even though others had drowned. The sound filled her lungs, and she could not resist. She wholeheartedly strolled without caution into the crashing waves, because they were strong and brave, and she thought that she was not. Did she forget how the current dragged her away before? She thought that she knew the ocean. But no one truly does. Walking on the sand, having chats with water that brought her dazzling seashells, and turned into paint with every sunrise, she thought that she knew the ocean. But she could not see. Though in the end, that mattered very little, for her heart trusted so very easily. And so she blindly immersed herself into the shadowed water, and she could not tell if she had drowned or finally started breathing.

In which fear was stronger

Day 16 The fire burned steadily that night. He did not. It was moonless. Only the stars were out to play. But she thought that even they looked sad that night. (Perhaps she already imagined the tears they would soon cry.) There was not a cloud to disrupt the serene, freckled sky. But the darkness had never been more suffocating. (The breathlessness was nice at first.) For they had brought themselves somewhere far. No people, no lights. Peace, but silence becomes unbearable after some time. The fire burned steadily that night. But he did not. Instead, he exploded. And she believed that the quiet had stripped away everything but anger. That she was too loud in the silence, too quiet in the noise. Too much And too little. Pushed and pulled. She believed that the music was gone, even though she could still hear it. She forgot that he was so very good at hiding. The fire burned steadily that night. Until he did not. And he poured water over it. (He must have believed that water could never cause pain. But even she could drown.) He poured water over it and it was gone. Not even smoldering. And in the darkness, he disappeared, left her alone. All because he was too afraid.

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