Lullabies From the Yawning Grave

January 31, 2019

I hope the dead can hear us think of them, way out there in the yawning grave. Do you think they miss us, too? Constellations get named after heroes and tragedy and grief. Is this grief? Does this tragedy make us heroes? There are no stars in the sky to answer my questions unless their absence is why the ache inside of me is my compass instead of all the emerald stars in existence || read more here ||

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It's Just Us
|| Those kids will fade into gleeful savages, smirks replacing our laughter. The universe is as relentless as we are. Each blow burns and marks us, but we keep coming up for blood. I like to set fires, and you don’t mind waiting out the chaos. This is our time to demand answers that start wars in our hearts because we’re still learning things we should already know. This is the fleeting opportunity to leave destruction behind us so that regret doesn’t follow. Now is for nights to never end and for days that never begin. I am always new and you are only endless || 

​​Read  more   here   ​||

HIRAETH
https://thousandonestories.com/hiraeth-by-kerri-caldwell/

HIRAETH​​​​​​​​​ is the first story I have ever submitted to a publishing company. I wrote this story for an advanced creative writing course, thinking only my professor and a few peers would ever read it. By the end of the course, my professor was encouraging me to send my story in. After one rejection, my piece was accepted, and I still can't believe all this has happened. 


HIRAETH explores the personal side of a relationship between doctor and patient. Nora has been seeing her psychiatrist, who she fondly calls H, for years. Both Nora and H recognize the bond they share beyond doctor-patient, and even if they can't define it to anyone else, they don't question the comfort it brings each of them.

January 1, 2019 || HIRAETH ​​​wins 1st place in Bards and Sages 2018 Writing Competition

  NORA   
I wonder who I would be today if my past wasn’t so intricately woven into all of my tomorrows. Before I started therapy, I never gave a second thought to my lack of communication. Silence was armor that sometimes kept me safe from angry, violent hands. Silence kept me from saying the wrong words, words I’ve witnessed bring my mom to her knees. They weren’t meant to hurt her. They were meant to save my mom from him.

 
       
I can read everything on her face, I always have. Even as an angry, hateful nine-year-old, I saw what no one else did. She wasn’t just a file that held details about a child no one would want to read, not when the child’s suffering happened at the hands of her father. All I really need to know about Nora comes from her face. In the beginning, this was the saving grace for both of us. I could see what she wanted to say, but Nora didn’t know how to communicate it. Expressing herself through speaking wasn’t something she was comfortable with, and I realized this about her immediately. It didn’t take long for the two of us to come up with our own language. I’ve never had this connection with any of my patients, not before Nora, and not since.
C E L I A C  W A R R I O R
Assuming that I was like other girls was your first mistake


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