milk and honey flow through my veins as much as the blood of my ancestors, ancestors who died amongst olive branches and sun-kissed dunes of blazing sand, who fled their homeland with salt in their souls and fear in their hearts. they
built themselves new homes in the stories written on their souls and pressed to their lips, only to find that hatred trailed them across the seas, hope crumbled to ash like temples eaten by flames. when
i bleed, i do not drip crimson but the milk and honey of my ancestors, those whose salt-streaked memories i keep in the six-tipped star around my neck, whose suffering i see in the steady whisper of the eternal flame and the rough-edged pages of the torah. for
blood is not just blood, it's
memory.
4 Comments
babybluelamentations
dhkdkfhg the repeating lines about milk and honey are so aesthetic what evenn. this is such a beautiful mesh of metaphor, history, and spirit, it’s absolutely beautiful. great job <3
pawsitivewriter
This is so vivid and descriptive and reads very beautifully. The only thing I would suggest is maybe making the meaning a little clearer, but I understand that likely isn't your style. Good work, and keep writing! :)
sci-Fi [kinda-sorta-maybe hiatus]
I love your way of writing, how you can describe such monumental things so easily with a few words.
What.I.saw.in.the.tea.leaves
Woah... this is... Amazing!!! So much raw emotion bleeding from these words. I could re-read this over and over again, it's so vivid and emotional.
I love this so much, great work!!!
:)