Memories from a Past Life Paula Araujo Parra
waking up from your quiet slumber to glass shattered on the floor, an angry voice screaming blasphemies— ones your younger mind couldn’t comprehend
but now the faces who stitched you together laugh hysterically at some trivial joke, his comforting brown eyes admire you, your nights are silent and soothing,
writing down your deepest thoughts in the back of an old notebook, trying to make sense of what has occurred
and
your
lungs
years of swallowing back defenses, of saving your tears for later in the day and of imploring the universe for peace
can
finally
breathe
wondering if you’ll ever make it out alive, you attempt to heal the scars, later seeing the scarlet-colored water flush down the sink of your mind
the never-ending sound of clocks, the hundreds of full moons you admired, the dresses alternating with seasons in your wardrobe
you know time is a privilege that you don’t have—
so you run you run so fast that you leave everything behind, including that doll’s house you so deeply cherished
you run so far that your knees fall to the ground in another land
you run so tirelessly that your face ages decades in the journey
87
Made with FlippingBook Online document maker