Here, the lake overlooks more than the presence
of me; A movement of quiet settles in the rustling
of leaves, settles in abed of grass. I am a body,
displaced. A pause lingering in my wake,
moments at a standstill. Colors, a hollowed
background. Time withdrawn.
Here, I am becoming more: giving body and
being to the hands of the moon, arching
my head towards the eyes of the night.
Feeling everything, re-finding transparency.
I am learning the touch of wind, the curvature
of whispers and lips. Re-imagining myself as
the ripple of water, detached from shadow
and space. Moving, boundlessly. I am both
within and without, heeding to a universe
reduced to nothing more than beauty.
By Jessica Xu
Jessica Xu is 15 years old, and her work can be found in The Apprentice Writer, Eunoia Review, and is upcoming in the Glass Kite Anthology. She has been recognized in the Scholastic Arts and Writing awards, TeenSequins, the William Faulkner Writing Contest, and more.