Silver by Choice

A reflective and evocative poem, by Christine, about brain, creativity, life and beyond, exclusively for Different Truths.

They asked what was so special about my brain
that I would risk my life
rather than chance my creativity?
And I laughed
that they should even ask.
To imagine my gift;
my most precious one,
right up there
with breathing,
could invite a question such as this.
Thoughts,
like a protective canopy above my head,
shielding me from
overly fair weather equally as well
as dastardly dreadful;
fell about me in softest, billowing clouds,
and their roots entwined
in huge numbers…
ever waiting to push and shove through
anything presuming to get in the way
of progress
ever and always to the sun for warmth
for sad and lost hearts
and the heavens for endless blessings
 of even darker souls.

And I answered…
“What is NOT special about a brain?
What is Life to me without my creativity?”
And my laughter rang out once again,
with even louder,
deeper derision.
And the wind of my many loved ones
soared me ever upwards,
like an eagle riding the thermals.
And a part of me thought to never return,

making me soar even higher.

Image of Silver Bowl, Shell, Art Nouveau, Secessionists, Lines by the poet