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5teen. posts once in a blue moon
communist & survivor & latina & angry

assorted notes on recovery

April 29, 2019


i. it will be more painful than anything you've ever undergone.

   like salt in a cut and a throat
   torn raw from screaming, screaming and coughing up hellfire

   until your blood becomes red again.

   there will be days when your lungs become wildfire; veins felled like smoking trees and oxygen dying beneath blue-tinged skin.
 and lord, the burning -
       like icarus as he fell,
            fire burning holes in his chest
   and lust beneath his eyes.

ii. there will be nightmares - so, so many nightmares.

    dream of storms so great -
    they would burn your sins into the cross-drawn ash on your forehead -
          for a god who did not save you
 but left you crying with hellfire on your tongue, your hair, your skin, your chest, your cheeks.

    (and what could he do for your forgiveness?)

    sew a circle over your heart 
    to chase away the nightmares.

    (it does not work
             but at least the bleeding stops)

    (and what could you do for his forgiveness?)

iii. you will learn worship again.

 it will come in small things - bubbles of laughter in white-washed city apartments
     or a hyacinth between the cobblestones
        that grow a street away from where the sunlight birthed you a halo sharp enough to kill any man
     who tried to touch you again.

     and maybe icarus needed to fall - so that he
     could feel the water where it stole away the burning
     and traded wings 
            for fins and scales.

     (icarus never died, darling. he was only reborn.)

     (and so were you.)

iv. sometimes, it will feel like waking up in heaven.

    on the mornings at the end of nights without nightmares,
      you will touch your skin - 
        and it will not be burning.
    on the mornings at the end of nights without nightmares,
       you will be holy.

    oranges and bananas with honey - and for the first time,
    when you feel the edge of a memory pulling at your chest -
    take buckets of memories, baskets
    boxes and tupperwares and crates and bags
‚Äč    to fill up your mind with happier days.

v. the universe will send you an apology.

and he will come in soft words and nights full of laughter,
        full of apologies every time you jump - 
            take a second look, hesitate, stutter, cry out.

     he will make you wish you could give him a part of your halo -
     wish that you could build him a tapestry
            made of forgiveness and a rejection
      of all that the world tells him he must be.

     (god knows icarus didn't do it alone)

     maybe in exchange for his sunlight, you'll build him wings
        of something sturdier than wax -
             something that lets him feel for the first time in years.

vi. you are not a victim.

 the world will try to name what you are.

     (do not let them)

      they do not have a word for it. they are not used to seeing a girl that has been burnt
           come back breathing with more love
                than she had before.

      icarus did not drown in the waves
            for you to forget that he learned how to swim.


See History

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  • Anha

    this is beautiful. truly, there are no words in the english language that can express how this piece makes me feel. even just the placement and formatting of these familiar shapes and sounds adds so much more to something that could have been just a block of text. love the analogies with icarus - our passion for greek mythos is alike in that sense - we are like achilles and patroclus - strong and faithful in life and able to overcome that which might separate us.

    i'm so proud of you.

    over 1 year ago
  • EAurora

    I love this!

    over 1 year ago
  • Onion3102

    i really love how your setting out of the piece adds an element of romanticism to the general vibe!

    over 1 year ago