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.
