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Broken Limbs by Abigail Cashwell

I confess to the sea

By Jacob Jing

that I am exhausted. that I know there is no sky

where a lover can fly without the destiny of descent,


but I still find myself there, waiting to be hurled back

down. in his fiery descent, Icarus was comforted


by a tender wind, and returned to the water from the

womb of his undoing. if the tragedy is that he


recognized the fall too late, then where is the gentle nosedive

for the one who predicted plummet from the start?


where are the soft waves that will cradle that

loveless execution? what I want is to be told


that I am enough, that I have been good, that my descent

will be more soft than lethal. if not that, then I want


to be mourned with more softness than I was loved.

to be told that my body once carried something


kind inside it. I still need to forgive myself for burning

in the name of safety you failed to offer. the scorched


plumage: a casualty of my useless heart. before you tell me

to swallow my tears, let me first become fluent in the shame

“let me first feed these feathers to / the flame.”


of wanting to be held. let me first feed these feathers to

the flame. let me love the wounds you gave me before I take


to the sky once more, chasing what the sun leaves behind.


About the Writer...

Jacob Jing is a young writer currently studying visual arts at the University of North Texas. He has been published in Spellbinder Magazine and is forthcoming in Eucalyptus Lit. In his free time, he enjoys photography, naps, and the $3 milkshakes from the student union. Find more of his work at

About the Author...

Abigail is an 11th grade student at Savannah Arts Academy. She enjoys using acrylic paint and experimenting with color.  She also likes making art pieces using references from places she has traveled to.  After high school she plans to go to college to become an art teacher at an elementary school.  

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