Begging for the Beautiful

Sooo I really did mean to post again last month! I wrote a poem and everything and then... it was May? April was full of fun/overwhelmingly busy and my writing has suffered for it. Does that ever happen to you? You fall too far away from your creative self and it becomes harder and harder to clamber back to your internal world?

Good news is, I figured out my next project! It's still very much in the planning phase, but it feels good to have a world to slip away to again.

In the meantime, I wrote this poem. I'm not a very political person, but recent(ish) events inspired this one.

Begging for the Beautiful

The World’s come untethered

It wobbles off its axis

Writhing

Wailing

Screeching

for someone to cling to

as it spirals into darkness

The Sky is burning

Flames lick the stars while black smoke

blooms

Like a shroud veiling

The horizon

The Sea is a skeleton

Ridges and fissures and broken bits

of bone

Exposed

Roasting

Unshielded from the sun

The Earth is dusty

It remembers 

the color green

the tall grass buzzing with bees and butterflies

And yearns for that thumping pulse

the tread of your feet

The People are weeping

Bruised and bloody

on their knees

Begging for the Beautiful that the world

had promised

The goodness they were meant to see

You’re searching
But you cannot find the Beautiful