Cupped Water

To be away for a while, (two weeks to be exact), from writing has been weird. I truly didn’t stop writing. More so, I allowed myself to get too busy to pull myself away and enjoy what I love. I wrote micro poetry, and as I was going over them I realized I interwove them on accident. However, they all made sense as I read them together.

It was as if, subconsciously, I was writing an entire poem or a poetic story without even realizing it. It just reminded me that life in itself is just a series of micro stories we put together and that is truly what our life is: poetry.

So here are the stories in the order I wrote them

He dipped his cupped hands in the water and as he pulled his hands back only a small amount remained. “Like our life”, he said “so much passes us by. How we use it remains in our hands.”

He cried without cause, because for the first time he was alive, and for the first time he felt the gravity of life.

Listen: that heart pounding. That constant reminder you are alive and can achieve so much.

If only for a second, they saw each other from opposing eyes and that was all the communication they needed.

Through deep despair and pain, I wrote my way out.

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