One Lone Snowflake Falls Taylor Dearborn

One Lone Snowflake

Falls Taylor Dearborn

It’s cold. Below freezing. It’s onyx black and hauntingly silent.

The air stops. Frozen. One lone snowflake

incredibly gently,

grazing the highest part of my cheek.

I stand frozen like the air. On this stagnant night.

falls

Bodily Function Susana Zierke

I’ve come to a realization.

Most people live their lives perfectly healthy. Every single one of their organs is performing its individual task, continuously, without fail. The hot blood pumped by their steady hearts flows through their veins, each capillary gladly accepting it, breathing in deeply.

I’ve realized not all people are struggling. Not all humans have an illness ailing them, controlling their very existence. To think that there are no limitations to what their bodies can do. What would it feel like to not be trapped by the skin you were given?

Is it selfish to think that they might take their perfect bodies for granted? Their flexibility and fluidity, their endless drive and undeniable strength. My perceived weightlessness of their shape. Do they know their bodies can scale mountains, swim across oceans? Day-to-day life is tainted by this notion, a black stain on my hope.

This body weighs on ambition, takes away drive. I loathe the shell where this soul is tethered. It is not me and still I claim it, my fragile prison.

I cannot help but surrender to my body’s reluctance to function. Every single step I take it constrains and limits. It prohibits and slows, emergency brake preventively engaged at all times. My chest tightens, constricting my life, poisoning my blood. It withers, with each syncopated beat.