Kelsey Writes
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Creative Writing

Creative Writing Journal Life

Alive

I have been writing I am alive in various places at various times throughout my life. It is a phrase that on the surface seems so simple. A statement. A confirmation of something I have taken for granted every day of my life. But when you pull back its layers and really examine it, there is a lot more to it. The more I think about it, the more alive becomes one of those Big Words that we never really define like Love, one of those Big Words we can only hover around the edges of.

It’s not a phrase that you write accidentally. Those three words are strung together with purpose. A declaration. I think that’s why it’s a phrase I keep coming back to. I have written it in notebooks, on windows, on napkins, in messages, in poems, in sand, on skin. Every time I write it, it comes with a new meaning and a greater depth from new experiences.

I AM ALIVE written in childish uppercase on yellow construction paper in purple crayon like the bold statement it was. I was young and announcing my presence to the world, similar to saying I AM HERE. How exciting to be alive & bold & shining.

I am alive, a soft marvel of discovery scratched in blue ink in a textbook flipped open to diagrams of the skeletal system.  An exploration of my aliveness, an exploration of all the pieces that make up who I am. An exploration of all the systems working to keep me alive.

I am Alive written like a promise, like a prayer on the inside of my wrist in a dark bedroom. The relief in such a truth. The hope in moving forward. The weight of being alive beating like a drum inside me.

Three words that hold a lot of meaning to me. I come back to the word alive over and over, contemplating its definition & my own aliveness. Am I alive enough? What does that mean? How do I be more alive in the way I go through life? Alive as here & now; alive as breathing, moving, dancing; alive as anticipation; alive as more things to come.

I come back to it now, I Am Alive, and it feels different yet again. This time, full; this time, beaming. I’m writing it here in this journal entry but it sits in my chest, expanding and collapsing on itself with my lungs as I breathe. As I move. As I live. I Am Alive, each word holding its weight, each word of equal importance. I Am Alive, I am saying and this is the happiest I think I’ve ever been.

Creative Writing Poetry

A Lesson in Forgetting

A lesson in forgetting:
the past always heals faster
when you’re not looking.
The way we try and hold
onto memories like they are more
than water. The way we look
into the pools of our past
searching for minnows,
searching for fish.
A lesson in remembering:
the water is always smoother
in retrospect. Where are the waves?
Where are the currents?
The way in which we tell ourselves
we could do it again. Dive in again.
Make it out alive.

Last night,
your voice touched me in my sleep;
I woke up thinking about waterfalls.

Creative Writing Poetry

A Bright Love / A Dark Break

The hum of finding / the flicker in being found.
The dimming of dusk / the great sigh of dawn.
The hunger in poetry / the poetry in hunger.
A world made from silkworms / a world made from lions.
A soft start / a harsh ending.
A swell of fondness for flight / a flood in the form of fear.
In this universe, doves / in the next one, goldfish.
A home in the heart / a heart in the home.
A sky so pink / an earth red raw and burnt.
The ache in leaving / the miracle in choosing to stay.
A dog whimper / a raised voice.
Arms moving through water / rain falling through trees.
The calming of wolves / the fury of crows.
Light hitting the body / body touching the light.
What’s missing? / What’s left?
Hands, everywhere / hands even counting the stars.