Page 49 - HEF Pen & Ink 2023

We Sync, I Sink
By Aliester Salome
The cherry blossoms begin to fade from a white to a blushing pink; the waterfalls rush and rain with mist; the petals that litter the white waters are carried away.
We are surrounded by trees of green pines, crimson maples, and silver willows.
But the pink trees are the ones that keep my eye.
Below us, water overlaps rocks, and left-over twigs dance in the stray pools.
I squeeze your hand; you squeeze mine.
In sync, we feel our hearts beating as one; my pulse sinks into consensus with yours, and our melodies become one. The first step you take is the first step I take, we become one with the running river.
The water is at our knees. We splash and swipe towards each other.
We are alone again, the gravity of our hearts only forcing us together once more, and, as one, we begin to sync with the water.
Our knees and our thighs; our stomachs and chests; our shoulders and heads.
Us. You and I; me and you. Our hearts as one.
Pink still has my eye.
The cherry blossoms are still falling and drifting. The water still covers the air with mist. Pink petals still capture my eyes first. Water still overlaps rock. Our gravity, however, is no more.
There is no hand to squeeze back; there is no pulse to match.
Two melodic heartbeats are now solos in two different songs.
No more first steps to be taken; there is no one to splash and swipe at.
I continue to sink, but there is no one to sink with.
It is no longer We are alone again, but that I am alone now.
One heart, beating solo.
Each hand alone.
But pink still has my eye.
Axolotl By Áine Cleary
47