The Branch

Emilia Iskra
Jul 29, 2017 · 4 min read

They tell me I can do better. But I refuse to let go,
Holding onto the memories of my future
I find a hint of significance and I hone in on it
Like a horse wearing blinders, riding through a tunnel — vision,
Envision this: there was a time where pragmatism prevailed
And my optimism was a reflection of real time, real talk, real life;
Keeping it real, until you find truth has an expiry date
Wrapped up in transparent plastic, folded up and tucked away
To the back of a drawer, where you can only find it by accident

And the most beautifully constructed accidents, in hindsight,
Could never have unraveled any differently.
I could never have seen you
If the light hadn’t hit your face in just that way,
If the wind hadn’t blown the hair off your face just that way,
If you hadn’t held in your breath for just that one second — so I could speak
If you’d turned your head just one moment earlier
Or one moment later —
I could have been saved.
Now I’m swimming to a shore I can’t see on the horizon, because somehow
My lifeboat let me drift away towards the depths of the ocean
In a black hole of experience and forgiveness,
Where I’m stuck tracing circles as ripples of blame —
I lost my oars, and I swore the universe couldn’t design a current to
Take me away from the ground I knew so well,
Trusting that the universe wouldn’t take me to a place I don’t belong —
To an exotic land where I can’t speak the language,
Or wear the proper clothes, or navigate the right paths,
Or know the right people, so that I won’t be taken hostage or
Somehow assumed a criminal

But the most beautifully constructed accidents, in hindsight,
Would have still led me to this exact spot standing before you.
Maybe I would have had the time to learn how to speak to you first
Maybe I would have had the time to prepare
But my innocence, in a sense, is what saved me — yet again
And the rest is saved by the shackles I placed around my hands years ago,
Where I kept myself leashed to that one spot of comfort
I knew I could never leave, anchored to that one place of familiarity
I thought could never change.
Now my feet stand grounded on foreign land and
I don’t want to go back —
I can’t even bring myself to take one step away, because

The most beautiful experiences are the ones we are strangers to,
The best lessons are the ones that are learned from failures;
The strongest emotions are the ones that stem out of fears and insecurities,
That stemmed out of anger and blame and power,
That stemmed out of love.
Now my feet stand grounded on foreign land and
I’d like to apply for a citizenship, or
At least a visa, just to stay a little bit longer —
Just to taste the fruit when it’s in season,
When you’ve got the best to show me.

When all the factors finally somehow make sense and, just by accident,
They somehow fall into place to construct
The most beautiful moment frozen in time;
Where for a split second, everything just works as it should
Everything belongs where it is and everything is where it belongs
And I find myself in an escape to comfort
Where for just that one split second,
Home and adventure are synonymous
Risk and security somehow take on each other’s meanings
The brain and the heart melt into one simple organ, and time stops —
And for just that split second, I’m yours

They stand back and watch, preaching I can do better.
I refuse to let go, because I didn’t realize I was holding on in the first place.
So when they told me to look down I did,
And now the ground beneath me is so far away I’m afraid I’ve lost my footing —
I won’t land safely so I hold on, because I can’t let go;
Because this hanging space, this hanging indent
Right before the body of my entire beautiful argument is
Where I’ve felt the most at peace.
In this space of unknown knowns, I find my comfort,
In the space of unanswered questions I find my response.
To respond with silence and to listen as the beauty of
These moments hangs over our heads,
Lingering like a heavy cloud of smoke
That even when it dissipates, you can still trace the space it occupies in your mind —

I’ll be honest.
I can’t see the forest for the trees, because
I’m too caught up in looking at this one, beautiful branch,
Gnarled and yet somehow so gracefully undetectable
In between the mess of leaves that surround it.
I found a branch, and I’m holding on because even though it’s not ideal,
It speaks to me in ways that are so much more inspired
Than the quotes dripping out the dirty mouths of those who tell me
That I can do better.

PAPERFACE

A collection of pieces.

Emilia Iskra

Written by

Truth seeker. Flow chaser. Authentic communication curator. Accidental cultural anthropologist.

PAPERFACE

PAPERFACE

A collection of pieces.

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