Journey
The distance between two points
increases over time—like a map
being stretched little by little every
day. Force it too far and it snaps like
an old, overused rubber band. Instead
give it a rest and fold it in half a few
times. Though now, the map is distorted
and can no longer navigate from point
A to point B efficiently. Instead, the
journey entails trekking over folds
and bends and dead-ends until you
reach your destination with much
frustration. While the long expedition
leaves you with bumps and bruises
you are also left with a good story and
a map filled with memories within every
fold and bend and dead end.
Holistic
My time with you is limited—all I hear is the
metronome of our descending clock
reverberating through my mind.
I want to take a piece of you with me when I go—
Tuck your laughter under my arm like a book of
poetry so I can read it whenever I please—
Then stuff your arms in my pockets so I can feel
your warm embrace whenever I’m feeling down.
But I can’t cut pieces of you like I can slice a piece of pie—
I can have all of you or none of you. But I don’t ever
want to choose none of you.
Bath
There was a sparkle in God’s eye when he told the clouds to
drape the sky like a lace covering;
patches of blue show through like skin through the open
stitching of a white lace dress.
The rain wraps around the city like a cold embrace that
envelops everything within,
until the only option is to collapse beneath its authority.
Because soon, the city realizes that
their skyscrapers needed to be brushed with the strokes
of water and their streets needed
to be swept by the broom of the droplets in order for it to
be made anew because sometimes
it doesn’t take the intense scrubbing of a bleach-stained
sponge to cleanse the city of its poison,
all it takes is a little pure rain to adorn the city and rinse
everything within and
God knew that when He told the clouds to drape the sky
like a lace covering.
Birds of a Feather
For the first time in her life, she felt like a sea
shell—something to be picked up, looked at,
maybe admired by some, but soon thrown
back into the sand without a second thought.
She didn’t want that—she didn’t want to be a
silver charm that hangs on a bracelet and bangs
against the countless other charms she’s beside.
No one will notice her stuck in the sand or blending
in on a bracelet for she looks just like everyone
else. She wanted to be a colorful feather on a
bird, one that helps it go from bland to beautiful, so
beautiful that it is impossible to get lost in a sea of
sand or a line of charms, for she is unique and always
comes prepared with a map to lead her back to herself,
Spring Cleaning
The vacuum screams across the floor—but I’ll
Take that over your screams any day—in fact,
I cleaned the floors yesterday. But you’re soaking
Your words with so much deception I’m left
Drowning in them until only my eyes are left
Floating above the lies that seep from your mouth
Like a waterfall. You say to turn that monster
off—well this seems harmless compared to the
fiend standing before me. So with only my eyes,
I push the machine across the floors until the
carpet is as clean as can be.
Ashley Cameron's Writing 