Growing rows of amber waved in the hot wind
Reaching for one of the sheathes, she pulled the kernels free
And rubbed them against each other in her hands, freeing the seeds from their husks
It released a wonderful smell of summer turning toward fall
Nodding she walked back to the farmhouse. Tomorrow they would harvest.
Every word he wrote on the paper was a bucket full of holes
Making them equally as worthless at holding anything inside
Perhaps he should just give up now and save the time and effort
Though it did make the lifting of each one easier in its own way
Yes, maybe he would haul of them into place now since it was easy and spackle it all together during rewrites
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Fires roared through the house, consuming everything in their path
Leaving behind black charred remains of a lifetime together
All of those bits of the past turned to smoke as if an offering to a non-existent deity
Mumbling to himself, the former occupant of the home shuffled in his slippers down the street
Everyone would be worried about his dementia, but if he couldn’t have those memories, no one would.
Putting two together was the desired goal of most people
And in some things, she would agree with them.
It didn’t apply to her socks. People always asked if her dryer ate one of them
Reality was she only bought singles since she usually got dressed in the dark.
Been promised that everything would be fine
Except that was never going to be true
That shouldn’t have surprised her
Rachel had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks
And no one there was ever able to keep their word, even if they tried
Yet this one hurt more than all the rest put together
Everett said he would always be there to hold her, to help make things right
Death had conveniently gotten him out of that, the bastard. She spit on his grave.
Knife was sharp, elbows were out, nose broken
Everything screamed danger to those around him
Everyone scrambled to get away, but they didn’t need to
No one, including him, noticed that his shoelaces were tied together
His heart was shattered into shards that stabbed his soul and made it bleed
Every day he tried to put one or two more pieces back together as best he could
And some days his heart broke more than he fixed it, yet overall
Living slowly got better, forever different, but better
Grabbing all the bits and bobs he might need for creation
Everything, of course, except the right batteries
And once it was together, he had no way to test it
Reaching for some wires he hot glued them onto the wrong batteries and voila!
*Do not try this. I am not condoning this. Even though it might work.
Putting together yet another try was one of the most satisfying things he did
Reaching down he snapped in the last fitting and took a breath, ready to see if it worked
Of course, building all these iterations was also one of the worst things he could do
They reminded him of the numerous failures he didn’t plan for, that he was a bad engineer
Only he knew there was almost zero chance that the first one would work out of the box
That was the stuff of myths, legends, and dumb luck
Yearning to know if this was the one, he flipped the on switch
Prepared for sparks to fly and flames to claim one more attempt
Except this time it didn’t burn. It still didn’t work, but that was still progress?
Putting words together on the screen
Results in so many possibilities
Outgrowing the original sum of the whole
Giving life to something that
Revision upon revision created
And each one is a step closer
Making the machine come alive.
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
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Never Short On Words 