To Dust You Shall Return

Still a beauty

Yet I know that your lifeline has been cut

That though you still breathe

You already belong to death

You aren’t yet faded

But you are fading

And Time- he soon will leave your side

As you will in turn leave us

We who are now realizing

Between womb and tomb

We came from earth

Then to work the earth

Until we are buried in our precious earth

Now realizing that as we grow older

Our time is constantly growing smaller

We are all slowly dying

Arriving on hospital beds

Then leaving how we came

Frail, helpless, afraid

On a hospital bed.

Comments

I'm Definitely in Texas

I'm currently in Georgetown. I just had a barista ask for my name, then ask me to repeat it, then create a completely new spelling. "MADILLAN." After YEARS of seeing the most creative efforts of the coffee industry, this 20-something-year-old still managed to impress me. But hey, i get it. My name is quite a handful. MADELEINE MCILHERAN doesn’t exactly sound like the name of a lullaby. Unfortunately, after having recorded this completely original name in sharpie on a plastic cup, he then thought to ask me how it was spelled. Luckily I have this part of the usual exchange down. "That's close enough." (I will miss seeing the correct spelling of my name regularly.)

Transition

"When you become a teenager, you step onto a bridge. You may already be on it. The opposite shore is adulthood. Childhood lies behind. The bridge is made of wood. As you cross, it burns behind you. "If you save what you write, you still won't be able to cross back to childhood. But you'll be able to see yourself in that lost country. You'll be able to wave to yourself across that wide river. "Whether or not you continue to write, you will be glad to have the souvenirs of your earlier self." ~ Gail Carson Levine

I'm Actually A Happy Person

The generation made only of skin, bones, and that which can be injected into the first So that we can make believe even after we’ve kissed adolescence goodbye We can play pretend Pretend that our reality is what we wish it were Though we should be holding back a bitter, abrasive laugh Should be finding it hilarious How we make believe our reality is one thing But through our actions we unceasingly choose to let our circumstances choose the shape and size of our world How we act as though it is only logical that our past should define our present But our present define our future? “You just don’t understand” As long as we aren’t drowning, we’ll let the ebb and flow of mundane living continue to wash over us, coming in, Now out, Rocking us gently back and forth Now suffocating Now letting us up to gasp for air A lullaby so patient, so constant We lose consciousness to the fact That we’re slowly drowning But so long as death doesn’t come before Friday,

Madeleine McIlheran

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