Young Writers Society

A/N Hi there! I wrote this poem intending for it to be spoken aloud, so here's a recording of me reading it which you can listen along to if you like! https://voca.ro/1iLe9hnwHZFH

There's something so elusive about readiness
and I don't mean butterfly, dancing-on-the-soft-wind elusive
no, this is diamond, buried-under-bedrock elusive.
You can scratch every detail down onto the page,
but one will always fall through the cracks,
filter through the dirt and find companions in the unreachable
depths of the earth. You can plan as much as you like,
turn a fluffy, cloud white page into flattened-by-pencil-led paper
but what are pencil led and paper if mere
imitations of charcoal and birch bark?               

There's something so intoxicating about waiting
for the perfect moment, and I don't mean watching the water,
breathing-in-the-steam while you urge it to boil waiting,
no - more like watching the waves
and wishing-the-wind-to-die-away waiting.
You sit there in the dunes convincing yourself
there's a calmer sea mere minutes ahead. Go ahead,
throw sand into the air in boredom and desperation,
feel it blown back into your eyes by a stinging breeze;
are you regretting your dependency on
the weather forecast yet?                       

There's something so terrifying about trusting
that you can improvise, and we're not talking about balloons,
deafening-pops-in-your-face terrifying, no, let me
introduce you to heights, suspended in the clouds
and unable-to-see what monsters will catch you if you fall terrifying.
But the longer you wait to jump, the farther upwards
you drift, away from a soft landing. And soon
you'll forget what you're missing, aromatic oxygen
and saturated colours stolen by an aimless void.
Sometimes you just need to cross your fingers
and hope you'll fly.