.
January 5, 2012
Olivia Brown, creative corner
Creative Corner is designed to highlight those with any unique, or special talent. We also showcase those who love to write. This is a piece I have written and would like to share. Anybody can submit a piece of their writing and the Newspaper staff will include you in our Creative Corner column. If you are interest in having a piece of your writing showcased in the Creative Corner section of the Liberty Legend, please submit your work to your Communication Arts teacher or a Liberty Legend staff member.
I open my eyes to see a blurred image of bare trees. The wind makes them dry so I close once again. I put my head back down with my chin to my chest. I touch the raw, sore red skin from all the tears and the rubbing around my eyes and push gently. My hands are cold so it feels refreshing like the heat on the side of my body that faces the sun and wind that chills the other. At least I feel something.
That’s why I came out here, to feel something. That’s why I still move and breathe and get up every day. To feel what I used to give out; Pain. I used to be mean, too. I used to give dirty looks because I felt like it and I used to start rumors because it felt good. It feels good to know you are under control of those out of control. Now I have no control.
I lay down and the arm rest of this chair blocks the sun and the wind from my face. I look at the small, naked tree in front of me. I see all its twisted braches and few ugly leaves left that the wind will have to push a little harder and get a little colder for them to come off. A small, bright green leaf catches my eye. It is lively and has potential. It is me. I have gone mad, I am relating myself to a leaf but this leaf must be mad, too. It thinks it can last all winter. It thinks it will defy nature, but, so do I. The tree that lives but looks plain dead is life and I am just a small part of it. No one notices me, for I look simply normal and I am something to give false sympathy towards but honestly not care about.
I will push through the rain and the snow like how I will push through sadness and pain. Rain is like sadness, easy to feel and hard to hide from. Snow is like pain, cold and numbing. Pain hurts to a certain extent to when you are just numb.
My whole life used to consist of pain and sadness, sadness and pain. A little anger but I was too weak to yell, too beaten down to even care. Just like this leaf, it is pushed by the wind constantly and hit with the cold, long lonely days and nights waiting for things to get better.
I am alone. We are alone but we are still hanging there, refusing to fall, with dead leaves beneath us just waiting to tear us down even after we have hit the ground as hard as life will throw us. That is what I have to look forward to. That is what we both have to look forward to.
I am sure we both are telling ourselves to not look down but what is there to look up at? A big empty space, is that why the sky is so plain and soft with clouds and nothing but air? While beneath us things are hard and confusing. Is the sky made so even if we are the lowest we can sink to, we can still look up and expect simplicity and receive simplicity? A big empty, canvas that is only ever beautiful.
This tree has no eyes, no feelings, just hard and dull. This leaf that was supposed to be normal and turn brown has turned into something much more beautiful though it was born into the life of existing and dying. It will not only exist but it will live. It will fulfill its potential of a leaf and more. It will strive to survive and it will die knowing it was much more than anyone could have expected. Even after the snow and the rain, after it being just an ignorant little leaf thinking spring and summer will last forever, it will be more.
After this leaf falls, after it is crushed and stepped on and disposed; it does not only live where it is physically, it is not only on the ground, but it lives in my heart. An image of its beauty stays in my mind and its complexity will live there when I am beyond people and higher than the tallest tree; dead, broken or alive. I will live. But, I am merely a leaf on this tree.
Loading ...
