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Seth Honda May 2018
What I dream of is a tree.
A tree one hundred feet high and fifty feet wide,
I dream of that tree.

I come to that tree in the middle of a forest,
In the middle of an uphill climb.
I come to the tree when I need it most.

I dream of the day where I come to the tree and lean against it.
I lean against the tree,
And it does not shake.

The tree wraps its rough brown arms around me
And the bark sheds way to skin,
The trunk sheds way to a body,
The leaves shed way to a head.
I dream of that tree.
The tree that sheds way to a person.

I want arms so strong they can hold the heaviest of burdens.
Arms that reassure me.
I want arms that do not know the cold sting of a blade,
The warm trickle of blood.
I want arms that can hold me tight and tell me “I’m here, there is no need to worry”
Not, “I know how it feels”.

I want the purity of naivety to pour over me.
Pure, untouched bliss to hold me.

I am tired of the blood stains on my shirt and the tears on my shoulder.
I want to leave a stain.
I want to spill tears.
I am tired of accepting them,
For every tear that falls on my shoulder,
The weight grows heavier.
The pain grows stronger.
The pain for those around me.
For those leaning on me.

I want to lean on them,
But they are just paper cut outs.
Trees with no roots,
Or roots that only run the surface.
Leaning on those who lean on me will only lead to me falling.
For these paper cut outs will fall over in a stiff wind.

I dream of a day where someone looks closer.
When a tree that has two eyes,
Two arms,
A nose,
Two ears,
Ten fingers,
And five senses,
Looks at me,
Reaches out their long skin covered branches,
And as the pads of their fingers meet my broken skin,

The tree will tell me to lean on them,
Because they looked closer.
They looked deeper than my exterior
And on the inside I’m a little sapling.
I am a sapling with the weight of the world on my little leaves
And it is breaking me.

The tree will tell me to rest.
They will give me shade and shelter.
Feed me with their fruit.

I dream of the day I will not weigh another sapling down,
Because if one more sapling’s roots are pulled from the ground,
If their leaves fall,
If their stems grow brown,
And their roots fall onto me.
I will collapse —
For I no longer have the strength for two.

I no longer even have the strength.
For one.
April 29, 2018 || 3:25 AM
Seth Honda May 2018
Pearly white keys,
Hammers,
And strings.
All laced together in a mahogany symphony.
A piano.

Melodies dance through the air,
Spinning circles round my head,
Making me dizzy with joy.

A tiger dances across the keys and into my ears,
Putting memories of a zoo in my head.
Remembering walking down the tiger habitat.
Hand in hand with my father,
Tugging at his shirt.
He wore green that day.

Images of a butterfly landing on my finger prance through the space between me and her and land on the tip of my nose.
It is pure happiness.

They say a butterfly will land only on someone pure with bliss,
It lands on me as I look over at her.
Her fingers gliding so effortlessly across the smooth ivory,
This song is music to my ears.

Her hair falling so effortlessly on her shoulders.
She looks at me and smiles,
Her eyes crinkle at the corners as music flows from her fingertips.
She is her own symphony.
Her laugh the drums,
Her voice the flute,
And her singing a chorus of violins.
She is a symphony to make Beethoven blush.

I gape in awe at her beauty,
At the beauty of the music,
The music filling the space between us.
She looks happy.

Her hands dancing over the piano, A smile lights up her face.
Highlighting her grin
And her chocolate brown eyes.
The dark brown curls flowing down from the top of her head.

Our arms touch.
I can feel her symphony in my bones,
One of sadness.
One of hope.

I feel her happiness resonate through my arms and send chills down my spine.
The sound of her fingers running across the piano keys are drowned out by the pounding of my heart.
Bump bump.
Bump bump.
I can feel it in my throat,
And I lean in.

The music stops.
Our lips touch.
I can feel her beauty resonate through my body.

Pearly white ivory teeth,
Perfectly parted lips,
And breath.
Laced together in un pelle symphonie.
May 2, 2018 || 5:46 PM
Seth Honda Apr 2018
Hey you, yes you, the one reading this page
I would like to make a vow
At this moment, offstage
I will love you for now.

You are probably disappointed, I figure as much
But before you stop reading, please, hear me out
Forever is a long time, though I am sure you’d be touched
But please, take my hand because I love you right now beyond any doubt.

Today is the only given, leave tomorrow to chance
So in the mystery, lay your lips on mine
There is no need to leave, not at least without a second glance.
We may have not been made for each other but right now is all I need, for right now you are mine.
April 29, 2018 || 6:48
Seth Honda Apr 2018
When two cars crash it is a cataclysmic event,
Glass shatters,
Airbags burst.
Things break.
People break.  
There is tragedy.
When two cars crash there is a crack and shards fly.

Look up at the sky during a car crash,
The glass in the sky twinkles like stars
And how beauty can found in something so broken is beyond me.

But look up at the sky.
See the stars twinkle like the shine in your eye,
It is beautiful.

When two atoms crash,
Energy is released,
Heat is given off,
Light is blinding.
Bonds break.

But look up at the sky after an atom collision.
The light you see is from that horrible thing.
The beauty is blinding.
How something so catastrophic could be so beautiful is beyond me.

But the stars shine bright with chemical reactions
And atoms colliding.

Someone somewhere crosses a ‘t’.
Someone somewhere dots their ‘i’.
How something so mundane could become beautiful is beyond me.

Look up at the sky.
The crashing of two things is never good,
It ends in pain,
Or sorrow, Or brokenness.
Every time.

But when two souls crash?
When two hearts collide?

Lay down and look up at the sky,
Rest your head on my chest
And someone once told me love is always reckless.

So look up at the sky,
Tell me, what do you see?
Stars?

Those reactions that created our universe were reckless
They were random
And how beauty can be found in something so reckless is beyond me.

Look up at the sky I tell you,
What do you see I ask.
“A moon,” you say,
“A moon as skinny as a sliver.”

You rest your head on my chest.
I tell you to look at that moon,
“Remember it,” I tell you,
“As long as it floats in the sky, our love, this everlasting perpetual love, will never die.”

Because how can something so mundane,
A rock in space,
Be beautiful.
I understand.

Just a set of eyes that crinkle when you smile,
Teeth that turn up at the corners when you grin,
Ears that perk up at your name,
Lips that curl to the touch of mine.
All placed atop a face.

How could something so mundane be beautiful?
Because it is not mundane.
It is not cataclysmic.
It is not reckless.

What it is,
is love.
Beauty is cataclysmically beautiful.
drip. drop. drip. drop.
hear the pain?
dancing under the purple rain
*

©IGMS
'cause the rain is the bravest of all
for it is not afraid to fall
and you're all deaf
'cause you don't hear
the hurt of
-
and you're all blind
'cause you don't see
the color of
-
the falling purple rain
  Apr 2018 Seth Honda
Ashly Kocher
My name is Ashly (yes spelled without
the E)
I was born without a windpipe and was 3 months premature.
I underwent surgery for a tracheostomy and died on the operating table.
I was revived.
I was hooked up to many machines and my parents were told I wouldn’t live for more then 3 days...
If I would survive more then 3 days I would be hooked up to machines my whole life and be in a “vegetative state”
Doctors told my parents and family “I would never live to see my 18th birthday.”
I lived in the hospital for almost 2 years.
At age 2, I myself, ripped out my tracheostomy (which could have killed me)
My family rushed me to children’s hospital and the doctors decided to let the hole in my neck close and see what happens.
My doctors don’t know how I made it through the night or days after.
I went home after a couple weeks and that’s when I started living my life as a “normal” child.
All of my sisters were involved in dance classes, my parents( doctors didn’t agree) enrolled me in to classes.
        THATS WHERE MY LIFE CHANGED
Dance became my passion, along with gymnastics and musical theatre.
Something my family, doctors or even myself never thought I would EVER do.
On my 18th birthday it was a mixture of emotions.
I made a milestone that no one said I would ever see.
I competed in dance and gymnastics until I was 19 years of age as well as did over 60 musicals at my local theatre company.
I never thought I would ever have a boy love me because I had “too many problems” or even get married for that matter.
Fast forward, I am now almost 33 ( June .11th is my birthday)
Married for almost 8 years to my best friend.
Happy doesn’t even cover what I feel everyday waking up next to my love.
We may not have a “family” of our own but we are happy and in love over the moon with one another.

So why did I just ramble on with this?
Because I’m a MIRACLE and a SURVIVOR.
Even though I don’t remember much from my childhood and what I and my family had to endure, I have been fighter since my first breath.

I’M A SURVIVOR and I’VE MADE IT....
Just a little insight to my story. I left out some details but y’all get the idea. Hope this helps to feel why I write and my story.
Seth Honda Apr 2018
The fastest way to get to heaven, is to bring it with you. These are the words that flood my mind as I glance over at the little piece of heaven sitting in my passenger seat, brown hair flapping in the wind, her hands in the sky, a bright glimmer of happiness in her chocolate brown eyes. We fly down the coast and I watch my worries fly out of the open convertible top, our stresses disappear with the wind, our happiness getting caught in our teeth. I can hear our happiness bubbling and screaming with each of our laughs. So we laughed, the deep kind of laugh, the laugh that starts in your toes and travels all the way up through your stomach to your throat up to your nose and it makes your head shake. It is the kind of laugh that I live for, your laugh. Heaven is not a place, or a time. It is wherever you are, and whatever minute I spend with you. Heaven is a place that I go every time I look into your eyes, every time I hear your laugh, see your smile, smell your perfume in the air. You are my little piece of heaven. Winding down the coast of whatever state we are in, in whatever car we rented, during whatever season it was, none of that mattered, because winding down the coast with you is perfection. It is noticing the tiny flecks of gold in the corner of my eye as your hair catches the sun. It is feeling the wind whipping through our clothes and hearing your giggling whip through my eardrums leaving me giddy. As we drive, I feel something fall atop my nose, then below my eye, then on my fingertip, little droplets of rain. I look up at the nearly cloudless sky and wonder. Wonder how a beautiful day could yield such conflicting weather. I look down a little and wonder how a beautiful girl could yield such conflicting emotions. The rain falls harder, rain drops whipping against our faces like bugs on a windshield, I pull our car over. I step out into the pouring rain and smile. I smile the kind of smile that starts in your throat, the kind that rises from your throat and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The kind of smile that is contagious. On earth there is no heaven, but there are pieces of it. And I know as the droplets of rain trickle off of my head, I have one of those pieces in my passenger seat. I dance around to your door, droplets of rain bouncing off of my head and swing you out. Your hands close on mine and I know my piece of heaven is holding me. Holding me as rain engulfs us, drenching us from head to toe. Dripping wet, we fly down the coast of whatever state we’re in and wind whips through our drenched shirts and shorts. Yet, I am warm for I have a little bit of sunshine in my passenger seat. A little bit of pure joy, thawed out happiness, raw love, in my passenger seat. Now I sit next to you, in some car, some place, somewhere, sometime, but those things do not matter because it’s not just someone, its you. The fastest way to get to heaven, is to bring it with you. And I definitely have.
April 29, 2018 || 12:59 AM
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