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About Varied / Hobbyist Member IsabelleFemale/United States Recent Activity
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When someone we love leaves us for a while,
let's not pretend that the instinct to wish them a safe trip doesn't come
from the sliver of thought hanging at the back of our brains, imagining death.

Some will see the blood and charred bones already, others just the crash.
Most will summon their energy up, make their last moments count
between them and the human leaving, (let the back of their receding head linger),
and those who won't would not let the thought of "last" enter.

Let's not pretend this isn't an instinct, a wish to hold in your palms
everything that person means to you at once,

because you can't see the dice that float above their heads,
the ones that cast the odds.
Safe Travels
I've been wishing safe travels a lot, lately.
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When I'm in bed the unwritten words beat against my skull like frenzied
flies in a jar, so full of energy a spark could graze the static of my nightie
and start a fire as I sleep; if I don't write, my ideas will burn forgotten...
my unborn poems thinner than smoke.
They're watching Into the Wild.

I can hear it from the other room,
with the sound, I can hear which parts they're on.
Why do I still cry over it? Why does his journey strike me so deeply?

I think of all the beautiful things he's seen. I know he's seized something deeper than most of us ever get to touch. His life begins at the end of the road.

Maybe I want to sit in the front of that bus too, to gaze into white, spacious silence,
to feel it recede from me outwards.
Maybe I want to see that sunlight too, from the window of a car. With my feet towards the sea.
I don't want to be dulled. I don't want to just move from one thing to the next. I want to be happy.

To tell the truth, this movie has made me feel as if I should reconsider moving towards so much darkness and suffering with my interests, and steeping my life in that.
Does that mean I need to at least find some balance, to know how to hold on to the light?
Or does it mean I'm on the right track with wanting to help others, with wanting to share, if not happiness, then hope?

When I think of McCandless, I picture a flame. Carried in his chest the way he carried his pack, wavering with the movement of each step yet never going out.
Chris walked away from from his life and entered the world, took in everything it had to offer him. At every moment. There's a certain power in that. We all get to live, and we all, at some point, express happiness, contentment or gratitude for our lives. But Chris knew what life meant and he went after it. Life, the choice of it, being alive.

He never lost that light.
Chris McCandless
These are my thoughts two days after watching into the Wild, when my parents decided to watch it. I was in the kitchen, having just finished the PBS documentary about Chris and his family's story. This story has moved me so much in a way I still can't completely understand, so I've tried writing about it. It's not poetry, but it's self-reflection. Anyone who's read the book and/or watched the movie can tell me what they think.
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There's a gratefulness when your energy gets up and walks again,
when your mind turns back on.

Although the toast still scrapes your sick throat
and the house remains quiet,
your veins will pulse, the words return flapping towards the page.

As you turn towards the window,
remember how you've shuttered yourself through the winter equinox,
this one and the world's.

You can see now where your stride will take you.

The days are getting longer again.
Convalescence
I haven't written any poetry since I left England and came back here. Part of that had to do with adapting to home, part of that had to do with all these plans and commitments I had, and a big part of it had to do with getting really sick, where I had a bad sore throat and felt sluggish all the time. This whole time I've been badly wanting to write poetry again, and had made some efforts to read some poetry in order to get inspired, but it wasn't until I was completely caught off guard that the creative electricity in me so suddenly switched on again, and I wrote this. I'm so happy, now I know a bit of how Rilke must've felt after one of his dry spells.
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Isabelle
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States

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:iconpajunen:
Pajunen Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks for the :+fav:
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:iconfangsandneedles:
FangsAndNeedles Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2015  Student General Artist
thanks for the fav :)
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:iconforgetyoself:
forgetyoself Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
you're so welcome! ^_^
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:iconshaitu:
shaitu Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2015   Photographer
thank you for faving
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:iconforgetyoself:
forgetyoself Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
you're welcome :meow:
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:iconshaitu:
shaitu Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2015   Photographer
:) thanks
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:iconbluecaroline:
BlueCaroline Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you Isabelle & Happy New Year!

Snowflake Snowflake Snowflake Snowflake  :snowman:  Snowflake Snowflake Snowflake Snowflake 
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:iconforgetyoself:
forgetyoself Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Yes, happy new year! :hug:
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:iconpajunen:
Pajunen Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks for the fav!
Happy New Year!
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:iconkariliimatainen:
KariLiimatainen Featured By Owner Dec 28, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
:bow: for :+fav:
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