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Do little birds
hesitate,
to jump
from nests
perched like cliffs?

Do little birds
pray,
to ricochet
from the ground
towards the clouds?

Or, do little birds
learn,
to flap
feeble wings;
a desperate plight to survive?
here's a short reflection on how we grow.
is it by necessity or by fate, that we are
who we are?

i haven't been able to write for months now.
it feels right to be back here.

a.s.
Beauty in strength
flourish through catastrophes:
divide, conquer, bloom .
here's for persistently trying, for persistently moving forward, for persistently growing in places where we're not supposed to be.

a.s.
  Apr 22 Anne Scintilla
bakunawa
here..
counting the  
rhythym  
of passing            
heartbeats
chasing      
fleeting  
car seats.        
everything      
r      
e                
d                        
drifting...
this has been sitting in my drafts kinda too long now and it took me a while looking at this to say that this is already a complete poem. i hope.

a little fitting right? sometimes the things we keep chasing all turn out as red lights in the end...
why do i feel caged
                                   —by the same fences, that was
               meant to make me safe.
comfort comes with a cost
snowflakes burn on the cheeks
filtering the clad of trees
with grey nostalgia underneath,

Mother said, "let's make
a scarf with those wings"
the commodity out of necessity

for the weather only permits
threads of white, to rest
as supine angel ghosts

remain like chalk pictures
of suns and dreams yet to be
on the street which colors fade

for she walks, with
a spool of feathers on her neck
wondering why,

she couldn't fly like everybody else.
winter doesn't come in our part of the world, only rain or ashes cloud our skies.
Anne Scintilla Oct 2018
Our efforts remain,
In landfills – incinerate,
Try reaching the sun.
this is for the half-baked work and sad attempts, we continue to give. i don't know how we can save humanity from the lament of our planet.

a.s.
  Oct 2018 Anne Scintilla
ali
he's a slow-motion
car crash.
he's hurtling
straight into this brick wall,
so calm,
typically these things happen
in an instant,
unpredictable,
but we can all see
where this is headed.
blurry faces
and unknown places,
stop and stare
at the collision
in motion,
predictable
and alluring.
metaphor for several things... i wonder what and who we each think of
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