Emily McLean


These Diverse Sights

September 10, 2016

PROMPT: Open Prompt

I’ve seen things.
Vague I know. And I really do hate the word ‘things’. But what other word could be broad enough to encompass the sheer mass of all of my memories?
What else could describe every flake of snow, when some fell like a feathers to kiss my face, and others spat in a hailstorm of ice to slice the air around me to ribbons. Every mountain and every stone: some of which were so grey and glorious; so obdurate in their size and power that they shortened the sunset, where others were but pebbles crumbling beneath my foot. Every falling leaf – ripe and green or withered and complete, I remembered them and their mothers and I fell in love with every blink.
I remember every touch of sunlight, from the diaphanous planks lowered from the clouds, to the glaring white explosions. Every footstep of every creature, every flap of every wing I heard and I praised. I remembered every drop of blood, whether it was roaring through its maker or spilling across the sands – I felt the destruction and the creation of every minute world and I wept.
So forgive me for not being specific.
But I think it’s safe to say that I haven’t only seen things.
I’ve felt them too. 


See History
  • September 10, 2016 - 5:21am (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.

1 Comment
  • kysrobs

    This is amazing!!!

    about 1 year ago