We’re Strawberry Flowers
Lit Up: Spring Prompt — Reality
My tears, salty and serene, harmful, I’m sure, drop into the meadow of strawberry flowers. Will strawberries still grow?
Resilience describes you, I was told time and time again; strawberries are resilient.
I think of you in this canvas of mine. All-encompassing freshness and, of course, purity. Are they one and the same? My memories of you brush away the war, the life you’ve trudged through to get to the next one. Is this it?
Perception is reality. Our war is more subtle, tailor-made to what our times have become. Are my memories of you your next life? If so, I smile through tears. This way, pristine and unsullied, you are everything. Forever you will stay.
I waive the reality of bad looks above masks sprawled on trivial pursuits. I’m embarrassed for those double my age who have learned so little and wasted so much breath. It’s such a shame, I think. Entitlement does hurt.
The social media rollercoaster heaves in waves of likes. My lines jettisoned as excess fuel will plunge to the bottom as failed missiles covered by water and then sand, more and more sand. I’m not trending.
“Work in silence, and your work will be rewarded.” I swim up through the mire of unseen posts and let the voice in my…
