Untitled | A Poem by C.J. Hemsley

Scars of knowledge furrow her skin like scales on a dragon’s wing, toughened by centuries of living. When she speaks, years of lessons, no louder than a whisper, traverse from mind to tongue. Words, drowned in the fragrance of wisdom, saunter through the air with humility like some sort of timeless spirit conjured up from unblemished optimism. She’d scroll through her mental book of morals, regurgitating virtuous stories as if she were a professor of life. And, in a sense, she was. But, like a young bird understanding flight, a young mind can’t conceptually grasp wisdom until its been thrown from the safe haven of its’ nest and is falling at cataclysmic speeds. There’s a point, during the dissension, that instincts kick in. Now, as I’ve come to age, they’ve taken on new meanings, perfectly coinciding with now. She just wanted these lessons to seep through the thick skull God’s cursed her grandson’s everyday with. And, hoped that the cracks that painted her guise could strengthen his character.

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