There were no footprints in the dust behind her. |
My name is Molly McIsaac, and I am alive. I am a photographer, writer, dreamer, graphic designer, dog lover, comic book dork, video game store employee, traveler, toy collector... I use this space to share my writing, my art, my inspirations. This tumblr is for my personal musings, art, photography and writing. If you are looking for my constant stream of geekiness, go here. flickr :: last.fm :: facebook :: twitter email: heyheymamawolf@gmail.com |
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Alaska.
Where I was born and raised.
Free writing exercise, no punctuation and run on sentences. Raw.
one cannot begin to comprehend, to grasp, to reach for with quivering fingers, trembling lips, quaking lungs. it is infeasible, unattaintable, unreliable, inHUMAN, or so IMPOSSIBLY human. the magic runs deep in all of us born at the misty in betweens of the ocean and the mountains, whispering sweet nothings into our sobbing newborn souls. it is a magic that is unknown to those who are not born into it, who do not have it running in their blood, who don’t dream it every night and exhale it with every breath. it is the magic of a thousand mountain voices, the singing of the whales, the song of the wind through a tree’s reaching fall fingers, the collected trill of chickadees outside of your foggy morning window. it is a magic that will never leave us, that sickens us with all its intensity, with all its beauty. it is the magic that we so often recall, the magic we refer back to in times of need, in times of weakness. we call on the ocean’s ever perpetual motion, the feeling of tree branches on bare skin and we gain strength from the land, even if we are miles and miles and miles and MILES away. it is the air that we breathe, the words that we speak, it is the clothes that we wear and the tears that we shed, it is humanity as we know it, it is our souls it is our blood it is US it is all it is everything. and it is the magic, the magic that so many voices, so many hearts, seek and shall never find and we only possess because we had the good will and the luck to be born into it with stormy grey skies and desperate desperate weather patterns, with expanses of forest ringing with birdsong and snows that never melt down the mountainside. THESE THINGS ARE ALL INSIDE OF US. WE ARE ALASKANS. AND THIS IS SOMETHING NO ONE CAN TAKE AWAY FROM US. this is something WE WILL NEVER LOSE. this is something WE CAN NEVER GET RID OF even on our last breath because we will ALWAYS GO BACK. our souls are the songs of the whales and the melancholy voices of the wolves, our souls are the screaming of the wind on christmas eve and the light of the midnight sun. our souls are alaska, and alaska is us.
