This week we invited our writers to come up with something special based around the word 'lost.' These are our favourites. Thanks to Whiskey + Empathy, Sarote Erasito, Emilie Ford, Nicole Carlyon, Peter Neville, Vlinder, and Mary Rogers Glowczwskie.
Whiskey + Empathy
The storm hit without a warning and ripped away her anchor. One after the other, waves crashed down upon her. Gasping for air, it took all she had to keep herself from drowning.
Eventually things began to settle, but her world had been violently shaken and turned upside down. Without an anchor, she wound up in the middle of nowhere drifting aimlessly at sea - lost.
Completely disheveled and emotionally exhausted she lie on the remains of her vessel, heartbroken, and thought back on all the signs she ignored... the heavy pit in her stomach, the ring around the moon, and that dream... that damn dream she couldn’t shake - They were enjoying the beautiful Spring day walking around Storm King when she heard a voice whisper in her ear, “Time is almost up.” Startled, she turned to see a strange figure pointing away. Following its direction, she realized they were now in a cemetery. He was sitting near a grave alone, drinking. Along came a crow, and as it softly landed on the headstone, she finally woke up.
Now she would give anything to wake up from this nightmare. But the pain searing in her lungs and hot sun beating down proved this was her reality... She was lost; He was lost forever; Everything she owned, everything they shared - lost.
And then something glimmering in the sun’s reflection caught her eye. She slowly reached out, her fingers searching, then grasping the small familiar object - but how could it be? In her hands she held the pendant He had made for her from the single pearl he found months back. She had lost this in the storm along with everything else, yet somehow it found her again. And as the tears rolled down her cheeks, back into the sea, she felt the tiniest sliver of hope - all because of that precious pearl that had no value, but was profoundly priceless.
hopeful and spirited, she entered,
to seek a compliment so that in heaven
they'd forever revel,
but she met the devil instead
and was forever lost in hell.
This time the pen controls the poet, lost in a sea of words strung together by a helpless mind with no direction. Sweeping brushstrokes of ink, feeble attempts, failing to turn my soul into poetry. Instead, when I finally take a breath, and lay the pen aside, there are no more dead ends, wrong turns, or highways of traffic reflecting in my eye. I am left with backroads and sunrises, coffee kissed lips and a hand to hold on this long drive. My heart became my roadmap, quill pens etched the lessons on my soul, directions to a destination where I would never be lost again.
There are wild things lurking in my waking hours
Wild ones holding my dreams captive at night
Maybe it's the wild holding me hostage
That keeps me alive
Lost in London in mid-Winter. The air is a chilled cacophony of raindrops smacking the tarmac, cars screeching on black ice patches, and the bustling background noise that is city life. I do not know where I am going. My phone is dead and instead of heading towards a train station or asking for help, I decided to just wander. I walk against the crowds, and slip down a laneway away from the main street. From there it becomes a game of chance. Unexpected turn after unexpected turn, round corners, down side streets, and through abandoned alleyways has left me here. Lost, but happy. I have no idea where to go next but I don't care. For the first time I feel found. And for a moment I'm starting to feel like I'm home.
Mary Rogers Glowczwskie
I lost myself in the idea of you
Forcing you on a pedestal
Too good to be true.
You tried to show me
No mask and no veil
But I desperately wanted
To believe in my own fairytale.
I couldn't remove my glasses
Or force my eyes to see
The broken, the wounded, the shattered
Destructive pieces of me
Nor could I understand
That you were broken too
So lost was I
In my fantasy dream of you.
Our world is small and can change very fast,
It's also a world where you have to make choices
Our world is round for our dreams, and flat for the more serious stuff.
She is also warm when we want to relax,
And cold in time of stress.
We only have one world with maybe a thousand languages,
So many countries that all have their own stories.
I bet that the light from the sun is brighter
Than all the lights in our world.
Our world - yours and mine.