I nurse my hurt in my hands
as I wait for my heart
to turn petal-soft and honey-sweet.
when I was a child I would sit and watch
my mother hang crisp white
sheets to dry. I would tell my father about my day
and he would not raise his voice every time he spoke-
back when my hands were mine
and my rib cage did not shudder with every breath.
now there are ghosts writhing
in the corner of my room, saying
listen child the light is fading and you must run
but it is always fading and I am always running.
last night I dreamt I stood
at the edge of a sandy riverbed.
what a sad and lonely thing I had become.
try to outrun the wanting,
try to outrun the longing.
There are warnings etched
onto my skin:
warning, do not touch
warning, destruction imminent.
I do not want to live a life
where my hands do not stop shaking
why are my hands shaking?
I wake up and sew
my body back together,
make a cup of tea
and prepare to live another day.
Author: Catherine is 18 years old and currently lives in Brisbane. She mostly writes to dabble in how she’s feeling or to turn snapshots of her life, both the good and the bad, into poetry.
Artist: Anastasia Notaras is an emerging artist based in Brisbane. She is currently in her third year of BFA in Drama at QUT. Her work has been published in ScratchThat Magazine and can be found on her Instagram @anastasianotaras. Her creative work is multidisciplinary as she delves into painting, collage, script writing, and performance.