(ETA: After much deliberation - and some lovely suggestions from Tumblr users - the title "Icarus' Lament" was born. Thank you so much for your help, everyone!)
I'm sorry for the lack of posting this week - I've been slightly struggling to get everything done school-wise, and so unfortunately blogging has fallen by the wayside. :( There's quite a bit to catch up on, since exams are starting soon and all of my teachers are sort of stuffing as much as they can into the weeks before we all start cramming for finals. So do excuse me if my posting is a bit sparse - it will even out once school is finished!
This week's poem was partially inspired by Christina Im, who has this lovely line on her website that I shamelessly stole and wrote a piece off of. (To my credit, I've been thinking about it for the past week and I thought I would implode if I didn't turn it into... something. ;)) It was originally a love poem, but then it morphed into something rather different. I'm not entirely sure I love the results, but oh well, it is something indeed!
As always, thoughts + impressions + feedback are welcome, as well as any title ideas you may have - I've sort of been racking my brain for something suitable, but seeing as I am a) terrible at titles and b) a hardcore perfectionist, this one is escaping me.
Regardless - I hope you have an absolutely wonderful weekend. I'll see you all on Monday. x
this is what hope looks like: sparrows teetering, fluttering on the horizon. you with your streetlight fingers, lighting the way back home. all the wrong things said in all the right ways. the place where the sky becomes weary and, all at once, ceases to exist –
oh, but what do you know of oceans? no more than sparrows, surely, the ones who craved the wind and found a saltwater sting instead. this is what hope looks like: two different somethings turn into an everything when they learn how not to fear the soft blue.
maybe there never was a wrong way to exist. maybe your heartbeat holds more courage than the sky knows how to put into words.
this is what hope looks like: the raw and windy way sparrows say I love you. the final song before the fall.