Riddle #1

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HANNA GRACE GREER

I am a force that opens locked doors A key created from emotional toil Like seeds, I take time to grow I am like the sea, uncontrollable Crashing waves over an unexpecting shore I cannot be tempered by human thought Reason can never touch my knot Within some, I burn life-long In others, only a short burst of energy

Hannah Grace Greer is a poet originally from Grantham, Pennsylvania. She is currently studying to achieve a BA in English & Creative Writing from the University of Iowa. You can find her @hannahggpoetry on Twitter and Instagram.

The Creation of the Sea

HANNA GRACE GREER

I stare into the water shining a deep cobalt under the surrounding flickering candlelight. The gentle brushes of water, moving calmly, soothe me as I lift my right foot to dip into the ancient pool. As my toes touch the surface, I feel the coolness breathe a different kind of life into my skin. I untense, place one hand on top of the other, and follow the water’s call, diving deep into the depths. My body becomes submerged. My ears become quieted. My heart sounding as if it’s echoing across the entire world instead of merely within my skin. As my fingertips graze the bottom of the pool, its roughness feeling smooth, my tears become pearls. Their iridescence shining even within the darkness. The pearls drip from the corners of my eyes and scattered across the pool’s floor. Once my sorrow is exhausted, my body becomes salt and my soul in its expansive grief, the sea.

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The Angels’ Outpost

HANNA GRACE GREER

Every ten thousand miles An Outpost lies in wait Standing tall with gilded pillars Successfully touching the heavens Guarding death and destiny To cast shadow away

The Outposts stand veiled Far away from mortal eyes Able to be summoned with need Made present and disguised Anywhere in the Outpost’s territory When it’s needed or called

In the land of Mankind, The Outpost can become anything An inn, another road, a gas station, a hospital Once not needed, it disappears and reforms If many are in need at once? It adapts into more than one

In the land of the Spirit, The Outpost is the Angels’ Auxiliary From where they’re deployed To step in disguised, invisible, or within dream To aide in matters important Or seemingly inconsequential

When the Outpost interferes, There is naught to fear For the Angels will ride and fly Your lifeline will burn bright Shielded from all sides