Whispered In The Wind

Whispered In The Wind
Just a fairy blowing in the wind, singing tales to the west wind

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Owl Eyes

She used to be louder. She used to be full of costume jewelry and bright clothing. She used fill her lungs with notes, push laughter out a little too high, a little too hard, red cheeks.

But she's grown. She's grown quieter, softer. She's afraid of being lonely, but knows her solitude is not the same as being alone. She has a world inside herself, shelves of other world's, word worlds, for the times her head is silent. She knows her own heart beat, she knows the strength of her eyes. Big eyes, owl eyes. Always watching. And sometimes she's afraid.

She's afraid of those big eyes and that heavy heartbeat. She is afraid of her own quiet strength. She is afraid of what she knows. She knows her sensitivity, her all encompassing sensitivity, is her greatest strength. Her ability to feel everything in all its sun sharp blaze, that is what makes her strong.

But what if, that isn't enough? What if it turns out in the long run, the sensitive artists never win? What if the loud, if the flashy, if the brilliant beauties are the ones who make the real impact?

She doesn't belong in high school, she never did. She is afraid that her quiet strength, her deep soul, that does not belong in these adolescent walls will never belong. What if she's always a bit lost, always too strong, always this?

She worries she will always be seen as a stone flower, instead of a vital living precious being. When does the time come when she will stop being labeled as confidant and seen for her flaws, the ones she thinks are beautiful in their own right. Do the quiet ones become heard, is there a real place for them? It's not that she doesn't speak up, she always does. But she isn't a blaze, she's a thinker.  When will she be able to bloom in a garden instead of being watered in a classroom?

And what if she is always lovable, everyone's friend, but never really loved?

 So she's afraid of her own quiet strength, of her own silent battles. She's afraid they keep her from being heard as she really is, seen for anything besides her quiet resilience, her owl eyes.

"I want warm summer nights, to lie in a hammock, staring at the stars, telling you stories. "

"I want warm summer nights, to lie in a hammock, staring at the stars, telling you stories. "
"When asked not to make waves, I just smiled and said, don't worry this is just a ripple"