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Writer's pictureMaximalist Magazine

The Wind

Camila De La Cerda, poetry, 2024

"My writing seeks to express the hidden emotions and turmoil within love and losing oneself within these romances. I seek to create a poems filled with conflict and showcase what it is to be human in my poetry by showing the idealization of those around us created by the human mind."


The trees stay still but the leaves dangle on its spine

Her steps are crunchy yet hollow as she drags herself down the obscure path

Crackling, whistling, crickets can be heard

They howl into the night and jump at the stars without a thought


She can hear the wind, feel it underneath her eyelids

But like a rock, she sways to the call of the crow that nicks at her skin

She was but obstinate enough to beg for glory

To scream and writhe underneath the blessings of the moon


A fantastical daze wraps around her like silk on the Goddess of Venus

A tragedy without love is a haze without a light

A woman without bliss cannot be a rose with blight


I can feel it,

I can hear it,

I can taste the tears that fall down the sockets of my eyes


I am not in pain

I am not a puppet

I am not the woman who bit her tongue in a room of liars

I am a vessel for the one that falls with the stars!


Though I am but without a soul, I can still feel the tingling in my spine when I see that wretched liar in my mind

My heart spasms and aches at the thorns that grow inside,

The petals of the dicentra blow in my direction without hindsight

But he will remain perched on the moon in the sea I have made during blind nights


Leaves that flutter around me cut into my skin

Ashes fall onto the dirt and swirls form at the edge of my feet

A tornado creeps past my eyes but I will not falter in his presence

A harsh cough vibrates against my throat and the wind retaliates against me


But as long as the wind turns,

As long as the droplets of dew on the tree fall,

As long as the night marries the sun,

As long as her heart remains awake, she can walk through the land that burns her limbs


Her pupils move yet she cannot let her tongue be free

A petal slides around her throat and a puff of air quivers into the sky

A beautiful midnight blue of serenity that bites at the night ravages her gaze


Prickly, silent, undulating

This was nature, this was the wind

Her eyes will close and the leaves will be her kin

A smile is weaved onto her face as the dirt seeps into her skin


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