Sarah Emily Pieces

Dissecting myself and everything else.

[mournfulroses]

Trista Mateer, from a poem featured in her collection titled The Dogs I Have Kissed

[depsidase]

[sustancy]

[sarahemilypieces]

Once upon a time every ounce of my being wanted to know the truth so I could stop wondering. 

The day I took into my heart the idea that the truth only exists in wonder and question, is the day my being knew. 

The truth is hidden in the stars, and the stars speak silently in the dark. 

Words without sound have no human meaning, and meaning as you know it is only a figment of the culture. 

So if the truth lies in wonder, the stars hold it silently, meaning is in your imagination and the darkest depths of time are lit by a fire humans did not create...

Gaze upon the night sky and allow its universal truth the opportunity to silently give you the answer...

You are the stars. 

[sarahemilypieces]

Sweet ache

the moment

I begin

to stake claim.

If love be true

upon my lips

the kiss of death

place all past

tithings due.

Goddess of time

behind your veil

enchant my heart

anew.

May waves of

change

romantic winds

upon the beach

of truth,

stir my soul

where passion brews

the spell

of hope

renewed.

[sarahemilypieces]

[sarahemilypieces]

The dark side of the Moon holds on to broken hearts. Her dark, cold, rugged face, a safe haven. You can pick up your broken heart, as your spirit passes by one day. The star you become, will burn it to ash.

[sarahemilypieces]

[sarahemilypieces]

[sarahemilypieces]

[sarahemilypieces]

A Witch’s Prayer

Breathe a sigh of fairy dust. Sneeze a breeze and readjust. Fae creatures in my midst, make me kind make me patient make me magical.

[sarahemilypieces]

Remembering

My soul slid through the slit in the sky created by the Crescent Moon. Falling to the Earth like an Autumn leaf I spun, dipped and made love to the wind. Landing amidst the other leaves in a pile together we lay to die. The moss breathed songs of decay into my bones enveloping all in the soft blanket of nature. Creatures big and small nibbled upon me carrying my essence to the four winds and I forgot what it meant to be human. O soul not so long ago held inside a body prison kissed the Earth’s mud and grasses. Rising from the ground in the hot, misty morn the Moon called me home with a melody that has no sound. Through Her eye in the sky I sailed like a ship disappearing into the Sun.

[sarahemilypieces]

We will ride the breeze

When the last breath is taken in and with peace released we become part of the eternal wind. When the body empties the spirit ripples of energy from all actions will become the ghost. Into the Universe haunting the energy ghost eternal, sleepy, dreaming dwelling in dark places lit by candles, Christmas lights and starlight gazes. The ghost rides a breeze made up of all last inhalations ever given back since the first breath was ever breathed.

[sarahemilypieces]

Summer River

Moonlit shore star filled sky with a heavy dose of breeze hanging branches over me leaves twinkling in the breeze. Skin damp from heat toes naked I creep along sandy mossy banks touch the rocks formed by the flow a thousand secrets keep. The river sweet he holds my hand atop his dark blue face beneath the surface minnows and weeds my fingertips embrace. The sun sleeps far away the moon in silence speaks she tells me things says I knew were hidden in the deep. The river calls from darker spots where feet no longer reach I lay atop the depths below and dream of what’s beneath. The creatures know they’re safe I’m just visiting their home we play and talk of summer nights and then we wrote this poem.

[sarahemilypieces]

5 am Moon

I walk outside every morn and look for the moon when she’s hidden the clouds’ beauty evades nature’s swoon. When she’s dark or hidden moments rest from us I feel a bit lost if not her what to trust? It’s her glow that I love, she smiles warms me like only a mother does. She looks down with that look like she’s happy I came. I feel it deep smile back light a smoke start the day. Today she was not there I could not see her lovely form I sighed heavy looked again, wondered where she’d gone. Still nothing but cotton candy clouds in a dark blue sky pulled them apart revealed a blank canvas “draw me” I heard I’m in your mind’s eye. I drew the goddess where she was seated a tiny crescent swoop there we sat me, the smoke and the always present moon.

[momentsinreading]

“My cousin Helen, who is in her 90s now, was in the Warsaw ghetto during World War II. She and a bunch of the girls in the ghetto had to do sewing each day. And if you were found with a book, it was an automatic death penalty. She had gotten hold of a copy of ‘Gone With the Wind’, and she would take three or four hours out of her sleeping time each night to read. And then, during the hour or so when they were sewing the next day, she would tell them all the story. These girls were risking certain death for a story. And when she told me that story herself, it actually made what I do feel more important. Because giving people stories is not a luxury. It’s actually one of the things that you live and die for.” –Neil Gaiman

[adrenaline]

via weheartit