Eve Souquett Wigg 2015/16

Untitled

Wind is wild, wind is free,

Just like my friends and I, staring at that tree.

That tree is old, maybe older than time,

But over the hills, I hear the bell chime.

 

Time to go home, best not be late,

Past towns, through the gate,

To escape the evil clutches of fate.

 

But that Tree, O! So old!

Standing there, out in the cold,

 

Wind is wild, wind is free,

just like the tree, 

my friends, and me!

Walking Through That Path Of Trees

Walking through that path of trees,

Un-disturbed, in twos and threes,

Going, waiting,

For someone to reach out a hand

So you may reach the Promised Land

They can smell the flowers,

Feel the wind against their cheeks

They still have hope

They haven't given up

They will march on

Heads up,

Eyes alight,

They will not get a fright

Nothing will tear them apart

These friendships, dear to heart

Never be broken,

Nor betrayed,

Not before the last one has been slayed

They will stick by each other

Till the end

 But their fate,

 They can't comprehend

 Walking through that path of trees

 Un-disturbed,

In twos and threes

The Child of War

He’s sitting in the rubble of what was once his home. This is a child of war. He picks up the remains of a porcelain doll owned by his dear sister. He can still hear the bomber planes zooming up above him. This is a child of war. His only comfort in the doll and his mother’s handkerchief, he picks himself up, looks into the sky, and awaits his fate. He waits, for seconds, for minutes, for hours. Then, nothing. This is a child of war. What was once destined for greatness, is now lost. Long forgotten in history. This is a child, born from a raging war that he did not commence. They say he wanders the highest mountains and the deepest cage, searching far and wide, for his Mother, his father, his sister. They say you can hear his whisper in the wind, at the dead of night, He whispers: “Be free, mother, father, sister dear, for I have come to join you, we’ll finally be home again.” This is a child of war. And his spirit is finally free.

Dear Human

Dear human,

You know me.

I am the creature that you feel.

Deep, down inside. I do not sleep, I take your life away,

And I am constantly there,

 In your dreams, your thoughts, and your children.

 I will cause you to wail, to weep, to cry.

But also to cry of joy, of happiness.

 I am the butterflies in your stomach,

The redness in your cheeks,

The beating of your heart. But I am madness.

I will drive you to think, “Am I worth it, and am I worthy of love?”

 My answer will be different each time.

Sometimes it’s a no,

 You are not,

You are filthy,

And not worthy of affection,

Of love.

And sometimes it’s a yes.

 You are worthy of love.

Of peace.

 Of redemption.

I am the clouding in your mind,

And I am also the clear.

I am the loud,

And I am the quiet.

 I am the tears streaming down your face like rain.

Rain traveling down your bedroom window.

As you cry.

You cry because I am overwhelming.

You cry because I am overbearing.

And you cry because I am the creature in the back of your mind

That you cannot escape.

Because I am emotion, dear human.

I will rip you apart from the inside out.

But I will crumble and leave you to pick up the pieces.

For though I am strong,

I am also weak.

I am like you, dear human,

I wail, I weep, I cry.

And I laugh, I’ll shiver, and then I’ll die.

I’ll die with you.

I’ll ride out each straggling breath as you breathe out your goodbyes.

And I will be a flame that is blown out.

All will be dark.

Because I am emotion.

You cannot escape me,

But I cannot escape you.