E(ART)H's Silent Refuge

E[ART]H’s Silent Refuge*

We are not of the Earth.

This barrier of silence cannot contain me.

I look outside the window and can see the beyond.

Earth waves to me like leaves falling from a tree

Dancing in the breeze.

Its branched arms extend outward, inviting me to play.

I envision the nature of things.

Earth

And all that it encompasses

And all that it is encompassed by

Is a Spectacle to be explored.

Seen and unseen

Everything has been gifted to us

By the hand of the Creator.

He worked carefully, intentionally, time completely

Relative. He is the master of all Art.

He created us—the pinnacle of all creation.

Ever-changing, ever-drifting masterpieces.

Communicators of limitless dialogue.

Silence resides in the Secret Annex.

A space behind the bookcase, where we are hidden,

Quieted by the sounds of sirens.

Warnings.

Threats.

Searching for good people.

Searching for the fearful.

Searching for my family and me.

We are all created equally in our diversity

To sustain the growth and love of every detail

To appreciate Art

To thrive on creative pursuit

And through the creative process, a desire to hone

In on an ounce of His craft.

The Creator is the most pristine of all.

We are the subject and focal point of His final piece,

Carefully constructed in shape, value, and color,

Placed before a galactic backdrop—body, veins, heartbeat,

Breath, life, a figure of divine thought, passion, and purpose.

And yet,

We are nothing. A single dot in a collection of infinite dots

Twinkling amongst the cosmos.

A shadow hovered over an intricately designed

Grain of sand.

An unrecognizable, unseen speck in the fantastic universe

Where earth is nothing.

And yet, where earth is everything

A platform of creation and life.

We are never to go outside and roam freely

To smell the blooming daffodils

To taste decadent ice cream cones

To hear the laughter of children jump roping

Or to join in.

We cannot feel the fresh air stroke our skin or draw

Our hair in a spontaneous dance.

We are an energy source waiting to collide, contained and made

To exist in a state of living—everything perfectly planned.

I am trapped. Stuck.

Our energy goes beyond its barriers

Just so long as we see and know the creator

Who chooses to color outside the lines,

Split boundaries,

And instill boundless imagination within us.

Left alone with my one source of comfort. My Diary.

Blanketed in a checkered pattern of red and white.

Even when confined we can take a walk within our head,

Take out a sheet of paper and pen and scroll our own path

Along blank pages

Beauty discovered around every corner,

Between every line,

Words, sentences, and paragraphs,

Stemmed from natural curiosity and creative inspiration.

My words are kept safe and protected

For only my eyes to see—except for the one time I let Margo take a peak.

We imagine a journey outside where the light touches

Sidewalks

Marked by used, red chalk,

Where hope blooms new daffodils to be picked

And placed in a journal for keepsake.

Nature is an invitation to approach the creator in solitude.

We climb mountains to further reach the stars.

We climb trees to feel an envelopment of rooftop leaves

And branches of outstretched arms, welcoming us to sit

And view the world in comfort.

We feel power when heightened and enclosed in a space

Where we cannot be touched.

And yet, we are powerless without the freshly inhaled air supply and contact of earth-grown trees.

The contact resides in the pages.

The freedom resides in the words.

Stories

Questions

Observations

Musings.

Amongst the soil, water, and stars,

A heightened sense of awareness to our bodies can lead us to a truth.

It is only my written words that cannot be taken from me.

They speak loudly, shouting across the page.

My Diary listens intently like a dear friend.

When the sirens pass,

Ink glides across blank pages, and I am not heard.

When mother yells, cries, and rejects my feelings

I silently write—secretly shed light on her faults—

And diffuse the tension.

I record the words of famous writers.

Charles Dickens—my father’s personal favorite.

My words are powerful.

My Diary a suppressor, like the Secret Annex.

For now.

I close my eyes and picture the stars.

Varying sizes, distances, and luminosities.

All encompassing this shared world, which they make up.

We are small. We are nothing at all.

And yet, we are everything—a vessel of free will and creative functioning.

We are the stars, and in our differences we are beautiful.

I see a world where hatred, suffering, pain, and judgment

Deflate. Like a red balloon released by a child,

Floating

Rising higher and higher

Until it is no longer seen

And then pops.

Pop!

We are free to pursue the beyond

The seen and the unseen.

Fragments     of     red     burst

Disappear in the sunset

And blend in with the stars.

One day, I will be free to be me.

And my diary will be published and seen.

And my story will be heard.

But for now, I will continue to write and pray

For we are free to use the earth as our canvas

And mark upon it our personal narrative

A story encompassed by art.

Where silence resides, in the Secret Annex.

* I constructed the piece "E(ART)H's Silent Refuge" in 2015 by combining two pieces from my journal: "Powerful Words in Silent Refuge" and "E(ART)H". The intent behind this piece was to expand upon what I wrote from the perspective of Anne Frank—a reflection on her diary and nature—by incorporating “E(ART)H”, which includes parallels to her words. The process of interweaving the texts was a bit arduous, trying to form connections both clear and thought provoking, but I felt that writing this ambitious piece was more intuitive than anything else. The story of Anne Frank has always deeply struck me and I find that every day she is relevant. I got to experience for myself a walking tour through the Secret Annex where Anne Frank resided at the end of her profound and too short life when I traveled to Amsterdam in the autumn of 2016.