The Works of Brynne Marin

What I Could Say My family is widespread and diverse And so they will come to st ay with us. They love to see our nice, cozy home And see my nice, cozy room. But lately, they have started questioning my ways Or maybe that’s just in my mind. They ask me why I whisper things That no on e else can hear I could tell them I can hear myself And sometimes I am the only one that understands That truly knows how I get through my day Amid chaos and disaster, But all I say is ‘I’m just thinking’. So they ask me why I save An old, blue, broken pot I could tell them it holds memories The ones I love a lot The ones that I so cherish Great mixes of sorrow and joy The ones I cannot let go But all I say is ‘I’m a packrat’. They ask me why I will not hear A single vulgar word I could say I feel this world needs no more Of hate and hurtful acts Things that make a beautiful mind Turn crude and evil in the turn of an eye But all I say is ‘I j...

  Thin beams of sunlight shimmer through bare maple branches. My eyes slowly blink and absorb my environment. Gray trunks with arms reaching across the sky stand tall. The twitter of a squirrel warning its brethren of a coyote reaches my ears. Though the snow is my bed and the brisk air my pillow, I feel not the cold of winter nor the bite of ice, but the calm of the forest. My nose is stiff, yet the smell of snowflakes still reaches my mind. The pads on my feet are solid, yet I still know the snow crumbling beneath them. My mouth has not felt the nourishment of water for hours, yet the breeze does not dry it. My mind is at peace and the forest does not stir it.   I feel my legs and rise. The surge of sunlight against the trees lays stripes across the forest floor. A path winds across the stripes and I choose to follow it. My feet drive into the snow with a crunch but my thoughts are still absorbed in the zen of the forest.   Soon...

The noon sun glared down upon the desert. A blanket of radiant sand rippled in the heat. Through the waves, a structure of a man slowly unveiled as he came nearer. Shaggy hair and a torn lip expressed that he had been wandering for many days. Underneath his bare, sore feet the sand crackled and shifted uncomfortably, but the texture didn't cause even a wince on his face. His eyes were wild, searching. Minutes passed, but still, he searched. He never slowed or sped. No word, no sign of fatigue at all left his mouth. Suddenly, his wild eyes latched upon something in the distance. A strip of green behind a sand-hill. His pace quickened as he began a brisk walk, then a jog, and finally a full-on sprint. Sand sprayed from underneath his feet as he rushed to his target. Green meant plants! Plants meant water! The green grew, and although his eyes were dry and aching, he could make out the forms of shrubbery laden with dazzling, plump fruit. A scintillating sapphire p...