Page 53 - Noss Magazine

2018 —2020
Mark Architecture The Search
Robinson Portfolio

Where are you?

Do You remember the day you knitted me in my mother’s womb?

My memories of that day are a bit clouded.

The only thing I can remember is an unmatched feeling of famili-

arity, a dusty pink scent.

I thought that we would always stay that way, intertwined.

Whenever I lay my eyes on the masterpiece You created, I

thought I’d remember Your miracle.
Whenever I touch a leaf, I thought I’d remember the first drop of

the sacred milk that touched my tongue from my mother’s hal-

lowed breasts.

I thought that the wounds on my young knees would heal as I

grow, and I believed that my little heart would triumph over all

the battles it entered.

Things didn’t unfold as such.

I got to know gray.

The tree I planted hoping to one day rest in its shade alongside

You, collapsed upon me. I had given her sap from my very

essence.

I hoped to entwine with her roots and meld with the Earth.

My hands, You created solely to praise and reach out to You,

lost their way and inflicted wounds upon my body that resisted
closure, despite my earnest struggles.

Wounds on my knees outgrew.

The thorns of the flowers I planted in my garden with the hope

that they would bloom like the color of joy pierced my eyes, and

the holy milk poured from my lips like poison.

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