Artwork (C) verybluebird 2014
My Wildlife Blog
My email: kpolk2 @ uwyo.edu
My personal blog
i am not the bandageso much sorrow. it fills me.i am not the bandage by verybluebird
the world is bleeding, and i am not the bandage.
it hurts me to know this, and i shed tears on this earth that i cannot help. i cannot heal the very thing that gives me life, and i mourn this fact with every breath.
why is peace so strange to us? why is death an option? our hands wring necks, yet we have nails, not claws; we are built to plant, not uproot. we are soft at heart— so why, in these days of torture, are we stone?
where are the gaps in our barbed wire?
where is the water in our world of fire?
our leaders, their fortresses so impenetrable, sit on their thrones. on their white horses, safe from the battle, they watch us bleed. our tears flood the streets so they build higher walls. our voices raise in protest so they use thicker glass. the graffiti we spray on their damn concrete walls is the closest they come to hearing us out.
the world is wounded and i am not the bandage—
i am the strong scar tissue ready to take another blow.
in a c
horse and mirror It was raining. A proper rain, full of howling wind that rattled the branches, scraping the window ever so often. It frightened Lara, but her gaze never wavered. Sitting on her bed, her purple blankets pulled halfway off her bare legs, she was staring at the oval mirror just across the room. It was dark, save for the moon peering into the rain-streaked window— just enough to illuminate the mirror.horse and mirror by verybluebird
She could have sworn by all the books she owned (and she had three bookcases full) that there was something in that mirror. It wasn’t ten minutes ago, when an enormous clap of thunder shook the walls, that she had seen it it: movement. Coming from within the mirror. And not just a reflection of the shuddering walls, no— deeper than that. Further back in the glass. If she had blinked, she would have missed it.
So now Lara sat waiting, poised to jump out of bed, sitting in her darkened room with rain pounding dangerously outs
"We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate for having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein do we err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with the extension of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings: they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.” - Henry Beston
“I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?”
—Vincent Van Gogh