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1.6k · May 2013
Spellbound
Ashley Day May 2013
Leaving those trusting eyes—
was indeed the cruelest act I have
ever partaken in.

Tagging along after numerous hugs,
These kids claimed that white bus—titling it as
mortal enemy. Now this nonliving
object was my ultimately my enemy.

Silently they wept, I wrap
my arms around her, I gave
everything I had to offer.
Hope

Washing over the diluted curvatures of
my face, my mind began to spin out of control.
Then his youthful face hit the floor like a bag
of unwanted rocks—Pain severed my core.

Every motherly instinct I possessed now
Stood,
perched in
tip-toed fashion.

Stunning those hopeful faces,
I turned my back—
like everyone else who had come
before me.

Sliding into the bus seat one final time,
my numbness took over—aching
taking refuge on a limb.

Had I held them back from their victory?
Or had I helped them pursue it?

Transforming, I will never be
the same. Will I go back for those
kids?
I recently went to Jamaica over spring break on a service trip to an orphanage. I wrote this poem a few days after I returned. I wanted to give readers a scope into what it was like to leave the children.
1.3k · May 2013
Survivor
Ashley Day May 2013
Frayed after many rains
the knotted rope struggles to hold its own
like a wilted fern before the first frost

subdued but predictable
veined designs trace the cloned leaves
drawing the complicated rails of
Manhattan’s underground

Hugging closely woven for warmth
dried leaves untwine. Released.
Driven by a light breeze
like tendrils sun kissed on a May vine

Curled up at setting of the sun
Mortared avocado green

The fern resilient but serene
810 · May 2013
May 16th
Ashley Day May 2013
May 16

I bit into the apple’s core one last time before
tossing it out the window. It was just before sunrise
and I was the only car traveling down the misty road
at this early hour in the morning.

5:47 and I hadn’t had my first cup of coffee. I was still
invigorated, restless at best. Sleep had run miles from
me this past eve and all I could do was act in response
to it’s disappearance.

I made my way through the curves and foothills,
pulled forward by the sweet smell of a fresh rain.
After all, it was the first dawn that the sun grew
his color, climbing the source of the sky.

My tires rumbled along the gravel as I slowed to
a still. I was greeted by lyrical birds: red bellied,
brown, and blue. The soft grass felt damp under my
toes, but it was cooling, comforting.

I could smell the sweet hay which was so skillfully
being churned to mulch by anxious, hunger stricken
horses. Whinnies bellowed in rhythm from
the depths of the stable.

I tightened the saddle around her silk coated barrel
and latched the supple leather to her muzzle. She was
hypnotized too, I could sense it. That early morning fresh
leapt forward, exerting her muscles into a gallop.

We ran as one contingent soul stamped with the power
of a strong spirit. The subtle breeze that tickled my nose,
now fiercely pulled at my attire, blowing breathes of
chilled mist down my skin.

My eyes watered as I filled the space between us with joy
and bounteous laughter. Those few seconds—we slowed down.
They become moments of eternity. We were both free. Her
breathes came in strokes, fogging our trail.

We raced against time to meet the sun. Hurling through the
trees we exhausted all innocence. Leisurely breaking from
the strenuous expenditure of energy we waded through
the clear creek. It soothed.

Greeted by the harmonious rays which shined
through the tree tops, we un-mounted. My legs
unsure at the stillness of the ground. I sat on
a tree stump, she grazed.

Our eyes became fixated on the reflection the water
mirrored back at us. Her eyes pierced the depths of the
pond’s surface and so did mine, and meeting us in the
middle was the sun, filling the gap between our faces.
501 · May 2013
All That Remains
Ashley Day May 2013
E**ach day melts into the
next and I am stuck here
wondering where all my
elasticity disappeared too

heavy and dark was
your dead breath it
coated my lungs like
honey, thick and lifeless
stealing away all moisture
if any still remained

around that deceased
tree we danced in
silence and empty did
your hands feel around me

your eyes hollowed out
stones of a dry unwanted
river bed Oh how you
searched your lips over the
crevices of mine, but dry and
cracked was all that remained

— The End —