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by Sara Harricharan
1/03/2008 / Death
I don't know why I'm still alive.
Sometimes I think I should've died.
Instead, I live.
To see past everything and nothing.
The wind is rough today.
I don't know if I can stand to be inside.
Uncle Jim doesn't want me to go out. He's scared of tornadoes.
The sky is gray, not green, I doubt the wind will spiral down to claim me.
It has left me alone, these long, four years.
"Cassie..." Uncle's voice fades away as I slip through the door.
The wind is ravenous.
Jerking my hair in every which direction, kissing my lips for a winter blister. I smile.
The power. The beauty. The majesty.
If only, I could, but be a part of this.
The unwritten story of praise. The feel of the future to come.
Everything is green and gold-through rose-colored glasses.
My hair ribbon is loosening.
Someone must miss me.
That is why the wind is here.
I pull the satin strand from tangled tresses.
Fluttering, straining in my grasp, it wiggles away on invisible waves.
Sara Harricharan is a young Christian woman with a passion for writing for the Lord through faith-filled Science Fiction/Fantasy stories and pure words. www.fictionfusion.blogspot.com
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