Skip to main content

Reaching. Reaching.

What I reached for so long revealed itself today. In the trees, I find peace in the green—to feel small for once, even as the problems of my heart rise as high as the trees. For a moment, they float. They give me purpose. They make me a person when I am struggling to be one.  

These trees have saved lives.  

So many feelings overwhelm me; my head aches. I dropped her off at the airport, and my room was ill with the scent of home, so I strayed as far as I could while staying as close as I could (to the place I knew most in this foreign land).

I stretched out on the stone bench—edit after edit—taking my mind off things. The deer looked at me thrice.  

I feel.  

I felt as a child. They have revolutionary thoughts, some psychedelic revelation. I was twelve—why did it have to be this way?

Three parts torn into to get the fruit. Three different ways: one tries to become a tree, the other shrivels up and dries, and the third, a different color, holds a little moisture.  

Why did it have to be this way?  

Why couldn't He have spared them from knowing sin’s taste?  

Why must He make them reach for it again and again?  

Why must He force me to have enough of it done to me so that I never know sin’s taste?
  
Why am I forced to watch as their hands reach for it?  

Why can't my hands move when their hands can’t reach anymore?  

And I don’t want to hold your hand now, not when I have been begging for yours for years. I never stopped reaching, and now you ask why I don't reach now.  

You hear the truth in what I say, and you question what has happened. It was always there. You just never heard it.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Chase to Curfew.

My heart is out of my chest. It's in my throat, beating like it's struggling to stay alive. But it's more alive than ever. The curfew is at 7 PM. You know it, I know it. Everyone knows it. Especially the duos that linger at Martin Junction. Yet we all love to tease the limits of how far a body can run and make it in time. The urgency, the need, the frustration, the fulfillment. There’s something exhilarating about skirting the edge of danger. About feeling the adrenaline course through your veins as the clock ticks down. I reach out for it during exams, actively working towards it—to be sleep-deprived and see how far I can push myself and still dish out something legible. I always take that one fake quote in stride, "Edison built the electric bulb in a night," or something of that sort. It's fake for multiple reasons, the stealing allegations aside. But it brings me hope. And this hope is quite delusional when it’s not accompanied by action. You can call it pr...
Post a Comment
Read more

Ominous Positivity: Reflecting on Korea Day

It's inevitable. The poetry and prose can only shield me from vulnerability for so long. Someone is bound to read through the poorly written literary devices and figure out the true meaning of all my works that I run away from by writing it (How presumptuous). Or no one cares.  The latter is the greater possibility. I find comfort in it, no one cares. And on some days, it's despair in how no one cares.  True to my character, I am going to switch the topic to another one. For today, I wish to reminisce on Korea Day and as much as I would love to say it started with me speaking Korean and having a wonderful day. It didn't. I sat on my glasses.  Having a power of -6 and allegedly even more, I can't move around without my glasses as there is a possibility I will fall into a ditch, the depth perception does lessen when you can't perceive objects, it turns out.  It was frustrating, the whole sitting on glasses debacle. I had never done it before. Out of character as I wou...
Post a Comment
Read more

Rainy Reflections.

What do I write today? I pondered for hours while doing mundane tasks. The sunlight stayed with me for a while, then it left, all alone, before the tube of electricity joined my thoughts. "Aren't you eating dinner?" asked my roommate. That's when I finally broke the silence I had condemned myself to until I wrote. I ate dinner and drank tea instead of coffee because I wanted to sleep earlier. I came back to my room, determined to write the third blog post. I couldn't give up so soon, could I? The sounds of doors and windows slamming against the walls, screeching laughter, and people running around seeped into my room. "It's cool outside, the rain, it's raining," said my roommate. I am not a huge fan of the rain. It always made me moody. I wasn't a hater either. Something in me whispered back to my roommate, "It's raining? It's raining!" I jumped up barefoot and ran out to feel the cool breeze against my face. My feet felt th...
Post a Comment
Read more