WishingWell Ⅲ

 I wish

but there is no telling

that I’ll be granted a star.

I wish

but I am an adult

wishing is a childish

construct & I don’t want to be seen

as a child.

I wish.

I stop to consider

if the stars

are a part of the heavens

if so, would I be pursuing the hunt?

Killing two birds with one stone--Saying

a wish, that’s intentionally recited like a prayer.

I wish

but sometimes I grow cluttered

with how my voice should go

either be; a muttered whisper or more affirmative.

I wish,

sometimes I’m not even sure 

if I’m wishing correctly,

there should have been a manual

to read as a child

so that I don’t wish so awkwardly

or perhaps even a manual

so that I could have avoided being

a child,

so clumsily

WishingWell Ⅱ

 

No, I wished.

I wished hard on a star that there was no telling could actually hear me from where I was.

I wished. Sometimes I would recite the wish like a prayer. Other times I wouldn’t know what to wish for & just let one fall off the tip of my tongue much like one does when blowing out birthday candles.

I wished & did not believe it, the wish, the falsehood that this ball of fire would answer any wish of mine, that it would hear anything I had to say. I was used to not being heard. 

I wished, the dust within my eyelids, disturbed by me digging up old childish dreams, if they could be attended to, then maybe I would indulge just enough to give in, to give them stars some real adult pain.

I wished hard & like a flash of light, I saw shooting stars, like one after the other after hearing my wish stars decided to go on either strick or put in their letters of resignation, leaving in a single file line.

I wished, & later felt funny indulging in such a child-like pass time. This delusion of wishing is no different than the illusion of dreaming. How can one dream without one going to bed, going to sleep? How does one make a wish without a wish to make of that wish or a wish taker to take such a wish?

I wished. Wished with a lackluster sense of humor, because I am an adult & these are child affairs. Wishing those moments will pass & the wish granted will have been present.

I wished cause I used to be her/e/

WishingWell Ⅰ

 She wished.

She wished hard.

She wished despite being sure whether or not she could be heard, not being sure whether or not she was heard was normal enough for her to proceed without overthinking or worrying too much. 

She wished so hard, crossed her fingers, closed her eyes so tight with all the superstition bullshit she did not believe in & made her wish.

She wished, but though she would deny it she cried a little afterward.

She wept. Not because she was sad, but because her pockets were empty & she wished to make an accompanying wish, one that the molecules of salt within those tears could speak for themselves.

She wished.

She stumbles for words to brush off her judgment. The whys flood her mind like insulin in a diabetic, a soldier into a war, like words looking for a writer, all something, someone, looking for something, some act of being a hero.

She wished. Wished hard. Looking back it looks like it feels so long ago, but it was only moments behind the present.

She wished.

Stonehenge

Pillars of labored sweat and stone foundation building. 

Pillars of conscience and determination; a satisfaction of sticking to it. 

I have walked underneath the stone henges before in 

all of their creation.

This young woman signs her name with her finger in the dust of 

Nature's ink at the entrance of these henges. 

These pillars of Contemporary Arts and history.

These pillars that serve no real shelter, but yet are so courteous 

as to have a sort of informal roof. 

Sometimes she walks underneath them with no 

thought at all.

Sometimes she looks at the chunk of stone and acknowledges the 

resemblance they have to building blocks, she wonders if it ever 

occurred that the sky had gotten tired of playing with the Stars and clouds 

as toys therefore creating these structures and their boredom. 

Acknowledges the hand that God had in these 

simple structures; she acknowledges the hand 

God had in her creation, putting two and two together 

she understands where the interception took place, 

aligning with her possible hand in this endeavor 

could be to simply put ‘ admire His handiwork’ 

and it's in all that surrounds it.

These pillars of stories, of voices

These pillars of hands, bodies, and lives 

These pillars of all the unknowns 

Pillars of known redacteds

These pillars that could hold her home 

These pillars that could hold the home of no one

Pictures of stone, of the world, of the creation of the one and only.

Pillars that serve as Nature's stance.