-
I have completed 17 journals between 2005 and 2022. I started journaling when I was 11 years old, though I did not start writing with regularity until college. It was an activity that was highly encouraged by my family. Every year at Christmas we would all receive a blank journal, and my mother led by…
-
Warm, woody and hearty; Like the old dinner table, Taking center stage in an ancestral home. Strong, full, and nurturing; Like a wise woman’s words. Ancient knowledge, preserved through time. Sweet, layered, and addictive Like a lover’s first kiss. It taste’s unparalleled, but beware the dose.
-
I don’t know where to call home. My family has always been nomadic. We move wherever opportunity takes us, rarely staying anywhere for more than a few years. We’ve always lived with the understanding that fortune favors the flexible, so those of us born without fortune’s favor had to find it. So, we chased stability…
-
The cold lingers in the air And in my mind, Cloudy as the gray sky. The weight of winter smog Settles in my chest, Causing me to cough in my bed As I long for sleep That cannot cure this fatigue.
-
I collect hobbies like trading cards. Relishing the thrill of the hunt for for a new pass time to expand my collection. I cycle through my passions like photos. Flipping through an album, never resting on one page longer than a beat. I hoard potential like a child hoards shells. Putting them on display or…
-
Most of my views come at 4:00am on Mondays. This makes perfect sense to me, because I too lay awake so deep into the night that the sky starts to lighten with the approaching dawn. Those hours, after the calendar date changes at midnight but before the sunrises exists outside of time. This is doubly…
-
A friend of mine told me that she thinks she is boring. I was confused when she made this confession to me. She’s smart, funny, adventurous, well-traveled, and can really hold her known in any conversation. How could she think she was boring. When I asked for clarification she told me; “I don’t have all…
-
The winter sky is white As the milky waters of Lethe. The stark clouds blend into a horizon: No beginning and no end, Like oblivion. The impervious sky, The impersonal snow, Blur the lines of heaven and earth. A void without warmth. A void without memory. A void without emotion. Only the bliss of nothingness.
-
I’ve always been afraid of wanting too much. I became convinced that if I told myself I don’t want it (whatever “it” is), it wouldn’t hurt when it was denied. I never believed it was “all or nothing”. Rather, I believed that it was “small or nothing”. I became content with scraps of affection, moments…
-
The cold moon rises in a lifeless sky. Silver as the winter, Bright as a midnight sun, Shattering the darkness. Snow illuminates the landscape. A reflection of a reflection, A false dawn? Or heaven’s mercy on an endless night?
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
Bringing Mae Flowers 