General

These are the things they don’t tell us.
– Girl Du Jour, from Notes on Uvalde

I’m floating up, out of the operating room ceiling, through walls, the roof of the hospital, and into the night sky. Drowsy in the black expanse, I feel warm in a giant palm that closes around my nakedness. My hospital gown flutters down and away, a falling flag of surrender.

I awake in a sycamore tree whose limbs drape over the moonlit headstone of my grandparents. I hear what sounds like laughter — but more like tinkling glass — above me and look up. They are birds of a species the living have never seen; yet they aren’t birds. I know them.

These are the things they don’t tell us. Earth is a closed system with myriad dimensions to it. Depending on where you are in your cycle will determine where your consciousness exists…

33 words

Acknowledgements :- Thank you Reena Saxena for hosting Reena’s Exploration Challenge #233. The above picture is the prompt. For rules please refer here. Thank you all for stopping by and reading.

Look what the past dragged in
Grains of truth wait to be winnowed
Anger grumbles in unvoiced angst
Mounds of regret sulk forgotten
Apologies lie locked in vaults of silence
Nostalgia strokes half a wound
Hesitant footsteps shuffle ashamed
When blue skies and sunrays 
unfurl a picnic day
We draw the blinds and squander it away

Mindfills for Reena’s exploration challenge, Fandango’s FOWC – apology

ravaged inner space
unable to account for
entries and exits
who came, who destroyed, who left?
a soul transformed forever

➰➰➰

The sands of time are relentless

The grains tumbling down without ceasing

What changes, what stays the same, it doesn’t concern it

Slowly the scenario changes, focus shifts

Lives are built, fortunes rise and fall

Time passes uncaring and unconcerned

Insidiously, it changes us all within and without

➰➰➰

Written for:RXC PROMPT #233, hosted by Reena

#Keepitalive

#RXC

Reena’s Xploration Challenge #233 has given us this picture prompt today.

Sands of time, travel seamlessly through each doorway. Where once was a home, now is empty. She blinks. Time, flows, gathers, layer upon layer, until new memories are created.

Past hurt only lingers for a little while, until grains cover each and every piece of pain like a silk blanket. Each strand creating another future. Dreams shift in your mind. All the forgotten thoughts brought together in one memory.

Sometimes Poppy wasn’t sure her memories were real.

Yet, they were all she could hold on to, like grains of sands everything sifted in between the gaps of her fingers. She needed to remember his voice, the way they were in tune with each other. The twin connection and on his last night she felt such rage.

As he breathed his last, after the motorbike crash, there was someone with him.

like wet sand clinging
cobwebs of old memories
hold me from action

tides begin shift
the mind starts to consider
beginning again

changes bring on joy
taking a big risk paid off
bliss came after all

Inspired by Eugenia’s Weekly Prompt – Island & Reena’s Exploration Challenge #233

Apart from air and water, sand is the most used natural resource on our planet.  We can’t take sand for granted, as it is a precious commodity, and it will not last forever.  Climate change has forced coastal communities to constantly replenish their beaches with dredged-up sand because of erosion from storms and tides and a rising sea level.  Eventually, we will run out of sand and then kids will have to dig in the mud with their sand shovels and sand buckets.  A beach can be made up of small smooth pebbles, cockle shells, coral-like fragments, or mud, but there is nothing like a beach that is full of glorious sand.  Sandy beaches are easy on our eyes, and they feel great on our feet.  Scientists estimate that Earth contains anywhere from 5 to 10 sextillion (10 to the 21 power) grains of sand on all the beaches, and…

Reena’s Absolutely challenging Challenge –> Welcome back! RXC PROMPT #233 ravaged inner space unable to account for entries and exits who came, who destroyed, who left? a soul transformed forever 

It had happened. The event that all of us had trained for.

“This will never happen…” Our O.T. said loudly to our group.

“Why are we doing this then?” An intern very young, very inexperienced had asked.

“They always ask us to do things that they cannot explain the rationale for…” A very seasoned staff person chimed in.

We went through the drill. Most of it was what you would expect; it was the immediate shut-down no matter who was in the facility that bothered us.

“What happens to civilians?” One of my co-workers whispered.

“Hopefully they are in the unit when close-down initiates or they will be radiated.”

“Even kids?”

I gulped not wanting to answer the affirmative.

“But…

“Many stories which are not on paper are written in the bodies and minds of women.“ – Amrita Pritam

in our weakness we find strength

to be a woman is to weep
love hurts because our hearts love deep
and for love’s sake, women lose sleep

to love and nurture is part of our nature

monthly cycle of cramps and blood
hormonal emotions of changing mood
endometriosis, cervical or breast cancer too

even childbearing brings tears of joy and grief

belly stretch marks, skin tags and bags
age and gravity means beauty sags
hot flash sweats feel like dishrag

have women not bourn and mourned enough?

must we also suffer the shame of porn,
abuse, rape, abortion, sexual scorn,
abandoned by lovers in the morn?

godly women clothe themselves in dignity and honor

______________

Linking to dVerse Poets where Punam introduces us to poetry of Amrita Pritam.