PouringOutTheSun

Ireland

“In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood, like a hundred golden urns pouring out the sun.” -Madeline Miller, “The Song Of Achilles.”

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Message to Readers

I wrote this in a rush, like someone possessed, so here we are!

Memories Build the Bridges to New Homes

August 11, 2019

FREE WRITING

7
“Watch this,” he says with a spit-fire grin as he leaps from one stained rock to another. I feel the nostalgia bubble up in my chest, like a wave of grief and I almost stumble to the ground with what flashes before my eyes. It’s her, it’s my mother with her dark flyaway hair and rainbow gilded voice. I am of the mind that I can once again feel her fingers trace across my cheek, stopping tears before they can drip off my chin, but then I snap back to myself, like a rope pulled taut and she’s gone. The wind takes her place, a cold stand in. I shiver and he laughs again, a brightened chest and an arched foot.

Long ago, I decided that his eyes were, indeed, clocks. Only one of them tells the correct time but I could never settle on which. Sometimes we cross time zones and he shudders, a blanket of wrong settling on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. He steps across my memories like they’re standing stones in a shallow river. On occasion, he hits the water and I swear, I see the apocalypse. Different every time, some desperate god razing the land again. I have never seen him in these visions which starts to fill me with some hazy contentment. Bottle that contentment and clutch the glass in your hand like it could never crack. A bit of peace is hard to come by around here, even harder to let go of.

Don’t waste your time on echoes and caves that glow. The dankness, it envelopes you and suddenly you have no memories for him to step across. If he keeps falling in your river you will eventually see the real world end and perhaps you will be at the centre of it, a shining star with absolutely no home to speak of.

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  • August 11, 2019 - 9:01am (Now Viewing)

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4 Comments
  • rainandsonder

    "Long ago, I decided that his eyes were, indeed, clocks. Only one of them tells the correct time but I could never settle on which." YES i absolutely adore this piece! it's fascinating to read!


    over 1 year ago
  • loveletterstosappho

    i am so in love with your word and all the metaphors in your arsenal--his eyes are clocks? you snap back to yourself like a rope pulled taut? your memories are stones in a river? so brilliant and creative, give me more goddamnit


    over 1 year ago
  • Anha

    you kill me with your words. this is brilliant and i'll come up with more helpful feedback in a moment.


    over 1 year ago
  • jaii

    you never fail to amaze me. the metaphor used throughout this piece is absolutely fascinating and the words you use left me absolutely speechless
    nicely done


    over 1 year ago