FLEDGLING- Issue Four (08/09/2020)
Image Source: fosa./Flickr
Written by Grace Nask
Orb of light frozen in the ground
Covered in ice after ice after ice.
Each layer a person’s
Face staring out with glassy eyes
That gaze unseeing as though dead. Each one
When reached out to was turned to stone.
Smashed with a hammer swung by
Its own hand.
Underneath it all the orb
Goes out as though
Dead to protect the ones shattered.
It’s better this way.
A new tear paves its way through the ice
And melts the self-created cage. A hand
Reaches out to the orb, grasping it, pulling it out.
The orb’s light flickers back and
Flares up, illuminating the tundra that was only a mirage.
The orb can’t forget the stone faces of the ones who tried
Beforehand. It can’t forget the icy cage it
Closed itself into to protect.
To forget would be fatal
To the world.
To remember would be fatal
But it can’t forget.
The orb of light has long since
Retreated to the tundra.
A layer of ice protects the world
From its rays. Or perhaps it
From the world. But it is not dead.
It will never die
The ice chills but does not trap.
The cage holds but drips with unfrozen water.
The light will
The ice is over the orb but
Thin enough to be broken
By a single knock on friendship’s door.
Author bio: Grace Nask is a Hufflepuff who wishes she could turn into a cat. She will be attending the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference in the fall and will also have two poems titled “The Power of the Sun” and “Twinkle, Little Star, Until You Fade Out” published by Down in the Dirt Literary Magazine in December. One could learn more about her by visiting her website at https://gracenask.wixsite.com/booksand her WattPad (under Grace Nask) and Facebook (as Grace Nask’s Books and Manuscripts) profiles.