I stand among wild trees and barbed fences. This is a wilderness for which schisms have been built, for which concrete meets soil and heartbeats kiss silence, for which crimson signs that cage bind leashes around necks.
I stand among wild trees and barbed fences, and my god, I can feel the electricity jostling my veins. "Incarceration, begone!" I say, for lock and keys and shadowy trees do not scare me anymore.
I stand among wild trees and barbed fences and I see war ground.
Monthly Merits is a monthly series where I recount and award the month's worthiest moments in merits.
March was like lights on a twilit evening, buzzing and beautiful, bright and burning. March was a good month, March was a bad month, March was an okay month.
I find myself amidst the tangled web of limbo as April rises before me. A painful desire to run into the arms of Spring showers and flowers encapsulates my heart and yet, as I look back, I see March as a canvas for colours to smear on black, splatters to heal all that is nothing. Much like February, March was bad and beautiful, the distant bokeh of memories better left alone.