Secrets of Our Surroundings


How much do our surroundings know?

The ground that men step on,
What does it hold?
Footsteps a wayward traveller left behind
Muddled up in thoughts that confound the mind.

The hard fabric of stone,
What does it hold?
Spite and hatred that resonate through its layers
– they hit rock bottom.

Enclosed walls that people hide behind,
What do they hold?
Whispers that pass through binding walls;
The occasional sharp tang of poison that still lingers.

Snow that falls into rivers, 
What does it hold?
Adversity and grief scorned, 
Washed along the flow of innate humanness.

Embers that float into the air,
What do they hold?
The guilt of mankind,
Burnt into pieces but forever here.

How much do our surroundings tell?

Most writing ideas come to Ema (Class of 2024) at ungodly hours. She writes them down (sometimes) but never ends up doing the stories. This piece is about surroundings being something like wallflowers, seeing everything but never commenting.