Inklilngs 2024

just like that, we are gone. I am left holding the end of this pink ribbon looking back to see the little girls kicking our feet on the swing set pretending to be leaves to be princesses to be anything we wanted until we learned who we were and who the world told us we could not be. & I examine the ripped ends frayed away & my old friend I think– have you ever heard of the concept of fates intertwined? you always loved love. I know you must know. & I think once our spirits were kindred through shared innocent joys & shared pains comparing wounds from scratches on the playground blacktop or friends we thought we lost. but you learned to sing prettily & made a life in a town that had always meant death to me & I learned to make my words pretty because I could never sing, moved away to the Big City– that endless dampened dream we had both believed or not believed in, when in truth we never know which words will be the last ones we say to each other. we will walk away, the ragged torn strings of our ribbon flying free between us. and that’s a shame but it’s okay. it was a damn good story. Light Paint Margaret Seabrook ’24