November 13, 2018

Hannah Arin

It started last night when a fly flew at my face and I flinched. I feared. I forgot. 
Soon, they may ask you what you want to be when you grow up.
Sweet Smell of Sacrifice by Hannah Arin
3 months ago
Just before your very eyes is a garden that will never die. It’s the only thing that ever is, all shapes, all forms, all bits of bits,
We used to pray for rain to come. We had to pray. We had to call out to God and trust; trust that He’d meet our needs.
The chick sat in the egg. Walls so soft and pure. His whole wide world, oh, so close and near. He’d simply spend his days, watching the...
Uncle, it’s but a whisper, the echo of your bare feet kissing the ocean floor. The tap of your staff on a cold marble floor.
The morning sun rises and swipes open your eyes on her way up, up, up across the morning sky. A whole slice of the world has been...
This window frame, it holds my gaze. I wonder, how I might see beyond this pane. See beyond the windless wall, see the leaves when...
Where the rain sinks deep into the soil and rises to the heights of a tree’s crown. Where the breath blows dandelion seeds into the sun...
Rest in Peace, my sweet friend, Kasha.  Nothing is beyond passing. The grass fades, as do our days. Even the Sun will cast its final ray.
I hope you find this world better than I did. And I don’t mean better air or cleaner water, although that’d be nice.
In this wondrous world of wedded opposites, of paradox after paradox I wonder what it is that pardons so much polarity?
Ah, to be human. How fearlessly we feel; and at our core, we know the truth: that it’s but a moment here. But alas, we get swept up in the...
Rain down Pure Joy upon my cheeks: tears, mine and the skies to share. Water, water, no taste, no form, Gives itself to herbs...
It started when Adam blamed Eve, deemed her the sole doer of misdeeds; and now as women we scream! We scream!
You know when you squint at a star and the light shines out in a series of lines giving the star legs and arms? What if it’s because all...
May you walk through this world as though you’ve just come upon a garden. A once hidden garden. You walked past its walls every day on your way...
The winds come and the trees are left naked. They seem to carry the air of ghosts. A blanket of white comes to purify. Born once more, their color returns,
“When I was a kid,” he said, “I used to stare up at the moon and think it a window.” I turned to the man beside me, dressed in all white from kippah down,
I dare not pick the fruit before it is ready and ripe. Ready and red it will reveal itself to me; its countless seeds ready to eat. A crack in its side,
There’s a pounding within my chest from the depths of my mortal flesh. The Lord, He knocks upon the door. His hand is hard — I want no more!
There is no denying the current state of our planet. Buds surface on trees with snow covered bases. Planes criss cross their chemical cobweb,
Some of us turn to the Sun and strum over our bodies in the shape of a rood. We play hymns over our hearts, passed down and over our DNA for generations.