You use your breath
to give it life
bigger and bigger
right in front of your eyes
with each new inhale
comes a new shape
A new groove in growing
Once it is the biggest it can get
all your energy inside
Trying to catch your breath
you tie it up
to keep from escaping
Now it's able to play
to live freely
fully grown and blown
Until one day you notice
the shape-changing
and the air deflating
The life you’ve known
grown and given everything
starts withering away
Until it’s nothing at all
an empty vessel
that used to fly
but now all it does is fall
About the Creator
Isabella Walker
I'm trying my best so if you're reading this, thank you! (Most of these pieces I will be revising and editing throughout this process, keep coming back for updated pieces!!)
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Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanovaabout 23 hours ago in Poets
Why Black History Matters in America?
The United States of America is celebrating their 250th anniversary in 2026. I'm proud to be an American and as someone who was born here, I wouldn't imagine myself living anywhere else. This is a country where opportunities are possible. Where anyone can be successful in anything they desire to do. Equality, community, and togetherness are the backbones of what America is and should be about. However, we have an administration who wants to erase and disregard those who have made positive, meaningful impacts in our country, specifically Black figures, such as Martin Luther King, Jr., Rosa Parks, and Maya Angelou. President Trump and his administration have been constantly complaining and fighting against what they call the "Woke agenda". They use this excuse as a distraction from other issues they refuse to address, such as the high cost of living, climate change, and inflation. That equality is dividing America, when in reality, it's bringing us together. Being woke is not tied to a specific political party. No matter where you stand on the political spectrum, you can still care about other people and their plights. Compassion and empathy for others isn't tied to a political party, either. We were taught as children to treat others the way we want to be treated and not judge others because they're different from us. Caring about others isn't a personal attack on your beliefs. It doesn't make you any less of a person. People who are easily offended over African American figures, past or present, or anything related to it, are grasping at straws. Current and future generations need to know who people like Harriet Tubman and Shirley Chisholm were, especially in the classroom. Black History is part of American History. It should be recognized, not hidden or forgotten. Besides, you can't shield children from everything, just because your feelings are easily hurt.
By Mark Wesley Pritchard 7 days ago in The Swamp
Comments (1)
Wow, I never knew someone could write about a balloon and have it be so hard hitting. This is very impressive and you made a good choice to give it a shot.