He's never taught to dance, and yet he's guiding me.He dosen't notice because he's concentrating so hard on what he dosen't have-- what he thinks he can't do
Ally CondieTag: cassia-reyes
I weave the papers through the branches, in a long loop. Up and down, my knees bending. My arms above my head, like the girls I saw once in a painting in a cave. There is a rhythm to this, a keeping of time. I wonder if I'm dancing.
Ally CondieTag: reached
I don't know where I find the air and I keep getting the words wrong: From out our bourne of death and space the flood will wash me far- but it doesn't even matter. I never knew that words might not matter.
Ally CondieTag: poetry
Hope looks like a footprint, a half footprint where someone grew careless and stepped into soft mud that later hardened too thick to blow away in the evening and morning winds.
Ally CondieOnly the sun is in the sky. Nothing flies. There are no angels here.
Ally CondieThings here are so different. Poisoned rivers, softened stone. You never know exactly what you're getting into. What will hold and what will give way
Ally CondieThen, quick, he flips the fish out onto the bank. It flops and gasps for air, its body slick.
We all watch the fish die.
And I laugh at myself for thinking I could touch the sky.
Ally CondieTag: hopelessness
They both have in common their conviction that they are still learning, still growing, when in fact they have long ago lost that ability.
Ally CondieTag: learning
I could write paper people and I would love them too; I could make them almost real.
Ally CondieTag: imagination creation
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