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Aug 27 · 278
Dysphoria
Emily Aug 27
When I look in the mirror I see
roses. Stark and stubborn.
Bursting from the cracks
in skin too plain
to do them justice.

When I look in the mirror I see
thorns. Threatening to break through the façade
so carefully contorted to fit
that cookie-cutter idealization
of a pre-packaged identity.

When I look in the mirror I see
monochrome; like the eyes of the beholder
who twisted my covert dissatisfaction into something--
maybe not beautiful, but at least
accepted, yes; eyes that couldn't behold
when I had my own ideations; couldn't accept
that underneath that soft, dull skin,
there were thorns.

There are thorns
and there are roses, too, when I look in the mirror--
they are engulfing my reflection;
transforming my figure into one that is unrecognizable
to those discerning eyes--

but not to mine,
these fiery red eyes of the beholder
which finally recognize beauty
worthy of love.
Emily Jun 6
see the thin film of the atmosphere
that sustains all of life
memories of the fragility of the Earth
pondering "why we exist"
on the horizon,
aspirations to seek out
habitable environments in the universe.
Ingenuity — that little helicopter —
defeating the odds
outliving its planned lifespan.
put the first woman and
the first person of color on the moon.
science is critical in answering
Are we alone?
implications beyond our solar system
how Earth evolved, and why
you could see from that altitude
how we're messing it up
the thin film of the atmosphere
that sustains all of life.
science is critical in
defeating the odds.
Apr 1 · 25
from chaos
Emily Apr 1
I have to believe
there is meaning behind
this life,
and why it all comes
crashing down sometimes,
a tsunami against
sandstone,
dreams that weren't meant
to be, shaping what
we were meant to be but
never dreamed,
like the first seedling on
a nursery log,
the way morels grow
after forest fires,
a planet and a sun born
in the aftermath of
another dying star,

light reaching closed eyes,
by which time it is soft enough
to ignite
something deep within
your heart knocked down by tsunamis
time and time again.

Broken dreams mean less
to supernovas
of which we are born.
Dying stars mean less
to sandstone shaped by tsunamis
which witnessed the end of dinosaurs.

Sunlight reaching soft closed eyes in
the aftermath of forest fires, reaching
seedlings on a fallen log
mean more.
Mar 15 · 17
detached
Emily Mar 15
The soft night calls
turn off the car engine
let the silence in

The click of headlights
and darkness floods this space
a darkness you could fade into

Breathe the whispering glimpses of
feelings no longer
detached by time nor space

A whisper,
and thoughts come flooding back
A memory,
secrets too heavy for this body
One by one,
let them fly

Away, through time and space
Away, through dark and quiet
Away, through this soft night
Away

The kiss of mist, cold against pink cheeks
breathe in whispering glimpses of
feelings no longer

Detached by time and space
the click of headlights, turn on the car engine
quiet darkness dissipates.
Nov 2020 · 572
2020
Emily Nov 2020
remind me--
what was ever so romantic about
sunrises, rain, and morning coffee?
remind me how to find meaning
in the monochrome,
paint color into the mundane
and strive for imperfection.
Sep 2020 · 238
drive us
Emily Sep 2020
watch the sun set red through wildfire smoke
from the roof of a battered minivan
that's weathered all the storms of
our Oregon mountain home--
we find ourselves here, repeatedly.
lost on rocky dirt roads by the cliff's edge,
trying to figure out what it means to be twenty
in a world that more and more these days
seems to be crumbling around us--
drive us somewhere never listed on the map,
with music blaring through broken speakers
we'll make our own destination.
May 2020 · 525
entropy
Emily May 2020
yes, we all wonder sometimes
if we are more than meaningless specks
on a dying planet and
yes, all things tend toward chaos but
you, staring up at the stars wondering,
are a counterexample
Feb 2020 · 67
smiling eyes
Emily Feb 2020
she walked me to the bus stop.
arm in arm sharing a polka dot umbrella in the pouring rain.
and now
the mirror of her smiling eyes
is all I can see
when I try to think about him.
about how
the world
wants me to feel
Jul 2019 · 377
wolf
Emily Jul 2019
a little girl was raised by wolves.
they taught her to be fierce, loud and brave
how to sing to the midnight moon
and withhold no part of herself.

and even when her body changed,
they still treated her as one of them.

now she feels beautiful
in basketball shorts and a sports bra
and knows how to speak her mind
and play and fight and swear and laugh
and sing to the midnight moon.

and she loves herself
just as she is:
a wolf in a woman’s body.
you can interpret this however you want to, but for me, it's a metaphor for the empowerment that comes when men treat girls the same way they treat boys (except for the toxic masculinity part) and don't expect girls to "grow up" in the sense of becoming *** objects when they hit puberty.
Jun 2019 · 293
bloom
Emily Jun 2019
bare feet on
warm pavement,
white blooming hawthorn,
the audible hum of honeybees,
black bats silhouetted against
piercing fiery blue, hot air
thick with perfume,
birdsong and pollen

tonight I fell in love
with the fullness
of the moon
the roses
and the sky.
Jun 2019 · 142
held
Emily Jun 2019
sometimes all it takes
is a small gesture of kindness
and everything you didn't

realize you were holding in
comes pouring out,
hurt that was buried

years ago, maybe
all it takes is a reminder that
love transcends time and space

and even death and betrayal.
today I let myself go there
sobbing on the kitchen floor

alone but not alone.
today I let myself feel loved
and feel

what had been numb
feel
everything.
Jun 2019 · 396
breathe
Emily Jun 2019
empty, still
the quiet absence
of a house that
was bustling yesterday
and will be tomorrow.
tears cold against
midnight air.
not anguish,
just
feeling
profound. thoughts
deeper than daytime
can hold. feelings. deeper
love. deeper
grief. stronger
gratitude. profound
midnight thoughts fill
a void bigger than daytime
can fill.
not empty,
the quiet absence
just
too real
or maybe just
real
enough.
May 2019 · 3.3k
striking
Emily May 2019
what if
you took a step back,
saw your life as
the work of art it is,
made beautiful by
tireless perfectionism and
ultimate lack of control,
treasured creations and
unseen shadows,
internal battles and
conflicting thoughts,
all together striking
balance,
contrast,
a wilderness of
human intricacy?
May 2019 · 81
holding on
Emily May 2019
"fight it. take the pain, ignite it"
May 2019 · 249
rise up
Emily May 2019
strength
is the ability to endure
power
is the potential to overcome
growth
is the moment strength becomes
power
and a challenge becomes
a gift
May 2019 · 76
illuminate
Emily May 2019
colors muted and melted
to black.
timid thoughts crept out
in the stillness.
memories and dreams sang
a soft lullaby,
danced and mingled
under the milky way.
the quiet made
things simple and the darkness illuminated
in its own way.
home came
with the sweet song of night.
Apr 2019 · 65
dark places
Emily Apr 2019
make art in all the dark places
if you only see shades of grey,
let that be your palette
if you only come up with a sentence
or a brushstroke
let that be your masterpiece
Mar 2019 · 89
night
Emily Mar 2019
in the darkness
she was free to be
without judgment or
expectation so
she claimed the night
and all its
honest thoughts
as hers
and hers
alone.
Mar 2019 · 702
warmth
Emily Mar 2019
let your warmth touch
everything you love

and may it shine back soft as
morning sun,

illuminate the cracks
in your perfect tender

beating blooming heart
Mar 2019 · 114
floodgates
Emily Mar 2019
hold my heart
as I sit
breathless,
face wet and salty
as the room
overflows
with love

hold my heart
as it feels ready to drop
under the weight of
open
floodgates

hold my heart
as his stops beating,
as I watch this pure,
tender being
leave his beloved
world and enter
the next

hold us all
and help us stay afloat in this
salty sea
of love

— The End —