MAYA LOONEY

Flowers

 

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet

so I search through the dark words

beat from the heart with blood

and through the arrows

shot into my throat

that only stung

because they had arisen from

the poisonous pools of truth,

 

I search through caverns

where monsters of forbidden fears lie

their hands and claws

pushing the great heroes to their knees

in spite of the golden lies

pulling them up

 

I search through the fields of tanned blades

blanketing the water weakened cliffs

that I climbed through to add

forgotten drops of sorrow to the

already great amassment

that amuses itself

by crashing against our souls

plaguing us forever with remembrance

 

But still I do not find

what flowers are at my feet

until I reach the horizon

where the great red and white galaxies

of oblivion's collection of stars

meet the lush green fields of living reality

and my mind goes over the edge

to meet the cold black cloth of death's hood

and to freeze to the point

where it will never thaw.

 

 

You Speak

 

You speak to me

I speak to my walls

You speak of progress

I speak of pity

But only to walls

 

You speak of all the things I’m doing wrong

I speak to walls that have bloomed into a window

Sections unfolding like petals of a rose

 

You speak to me like I am a child

And I am a child, gazing into a sleepy forest

Waiting for stars to fall into my hands

 

But the stars don’t exist

And stars don't fall like that

And you tell me all of that

You speak to me through my window

You speak to me as a reflection

 

And you speak the truth

Written on foggy glass

Disappearing with the evaporation

 

You tell me I need to get help

You tell me you are dying

I speak to help

 

He speaks of things I don't want to hear

But I do speak to help

So I return to my window

But it and you are gone

And all that has been spoken

Was to walls

I speak to walls

 

Maya Looney (2).jpg

 

Maya Looney is an eighth grader from Oakland California. When she's not writing inspired new fancy words, she likes drawing and sleeping in.

Click here for a note on Maya and Greer from their teacher, Sophie Dahlin.