Pixels and Poems

[pampanope]

Can you draw the shadows with Grandpa Russel the opossum?

No pressure. I know you probably get a million requests a day. But also, Opossum Graves.

T141: Our mascot is a well trained military dog with field experience and is a God Boy.

Graves; -holds up opossum- We found him eating pizza rolls in the trash

The man has a secret soft spot for the creatures 🤷‍♀️

New mascot gets an honorary rank, is fed all the treats, can be seen slowly ambling around base, and shamelessly curls up into unsuspecting Shadows’ laps for cuddles. Russell lives the sweet life✨

[pixelpantomime]

The Rocks (2023)

As the end of the worst year approaches

Quicker than I can stumble to outpace it

I glimpse the steep drops on all sides

The narrow stone ledge beneath me rapidly crumbling

A single beam of sunlight shows me the next ledge

The jump is far, thrice my body length

I don't know if I could make another leap

I've been running since the Start of the worst year

My fingernails are broken,

My shoes no longer have soles,

My eyes have run out of tears,

My bloody knees soften the rock even more

But the sunlight would be warm

It would heal my wounds

It would dry the rock

It would let me rest for the first time

Since the Start of the worst year

So even though I'm beaten down,

Bruised, bloodied, exhausted

And my legs shake underneath my weight

I cling to hope

And I prepare to jump.

[pixelpantomime]

Chronic Illness

I mourn the body I had

It could run

It could climb

It loved to jump on the trampoline

And swing on ropes

High above the Blackberry bush

It rolled down grassy hills

It swam in the lake and public pool

It jumped into leaf piles

It spent hours in the snow

It looked for crabs under rocks

It ran track

It did AA family marathons

And it played kickball every recess

I mourn the body I had

Before.

[pixelpantomime]

Late Night Flight

Rest your head on my shoulder, darling

I'll tuck your face into me and hold you close

I'll keep the window shades drawn

So the rising sunlight won't touch your eyelids

I'll keep my body still

So your sleep won't be disturbed

I'll put my blanket on my shoulder

To cushion your neck and prevent soreness

All I ask in return

Is that on the next red eye flight

You hold me the same way

And let me rest my head on your shoulder, darling.

[pixelpantomime]

Unrequited

To love you is to yearn for the sun's golden rays,

Trapped inside a stone room with just one window.

I watch as light bathes a distant grassy hill,

Occasionally catching a fleeting beam,

Breaking myself to fit within its narrow path.

The beam of light, when it comes, is a lifeline,

A fragile thread connecting me to your world.

I contort and bend, every bone protesting,

But I would fracture a thousand times over,

To feel even a moment of your warmth,

To be touched by the essence of you on every inch of exposed flesh I have.

Outside, I hear laughter and joy,

As others revel in your gentle touch,

Their carefree souls dancing in the sunlight.

I envy their freedom, their ease,

While I am bound by walls and shadows,

Longing for a taste of what they effortlessly enjoy.

The pain of yearning grips me fiercely,

A relentless ache that echoes in my bones,

A reminder of the distance between us,

Measured not in physical space,

But in the unbridgeable expanse of unrequited love.

Yet, despite the agony, I endure,

Waiting by the window with bated breath,

Hoping against hope for that fleeting moment,

When the sun shifts just right,

And I can once again break myself,

To fit inside the beam of light,

Where perhaps, just for an instant,

I can feel close to you,

In the warmth that eludes my grasp.

Maybe someday I'll be able

to feel happy for them,

being blessed with the opportunity

to be divinely touched by your heart.

But today my bones hurt,

and I will close my eyes and pretend

this sliver of light is enough.

[pixelpantomime]

A Poem About Oranges

You dig your thumbs in,

tearing the orange apart.

Juice spurts, splatters,

hands sticky and stained.

Pulp shredded, scattered,

a frenzy of need

to reach the center,

to grasp the essence,

to hold the heart.

You don’t notice the mess,

the wasted pieces,

the bruises left behind.

All you see is the prize,

the sweetness you crave,

and you think you know it now,

having forced your way in.

Another's touch is different,

fingers tracing the contours,

finding the seam, the natural give.

Carefully, they peel,

lifting the skin away, bit by bit.

The scent rises softly,

a promise in the air.

No juice is lost, no flesh torn.

The fruit, whole and vibrant,

emerges, unscathed.

Each section revealed with reverence,

each part savored in its turn,

nothing rushed, nothing broken.

The hands respect the form,

honor the integrity,

and in this gentle uncovering,

the fruit’s true nature is known.

One approach sees only

a barrier to break,

a thing to conquer,

a prize to seize.

The other understands

the layers, the patience,

the tenderness required

to reveal without ruin,

to know without damage.

One leaves destruction in its wake,

confusion and pieces scattered,

the other leaves a sense of wholeness,

a feeling of being seen.

In the peeling, a choice:

to ravage, to rush,

or to gently uncover,

and truly see.

To be understood is to be carefully unwrapped,

not stripped of defenses,

but gradually revealed,

until the heart is found,

intact and true.

So consider your hands,

your methods, your desire,

and know that to truly know,

to truly see,

you must peel with care,

with patience,

with love.