The glowing orb… what are you trying to catch there Holly Olly? The unpredictable mind as it struggles to hold onto itself? Memory? Hope? You’ve written this with such restraint, it’s beautiful (as always) ✨
I have an outgoing loud family. This brings me back to car trips as a kid. I couldn't wait to get to wherever we were going, pick my room and close the door to be alone.
There is something so honest in the relief of that final moment: “where nothing is requested of me.” After all the movement, noise, objects, thoughts, and conversations continuing beyond the door, the poem arrives at a small pocket of freedom. Sometimes rest is not peace in any grand sense—it is simply the brief experience of no one needing anything from us. Beautifully captured, Holly.
The glowing orb… what are you trying to catch there Holly Olly? The unpredictable mind as it struggles to hold onto itself? Memory? Hope? You’ve written this with such restraint, it’s beautiful (as always) ✨
Thank you Luna :) trying to catch some peace it always eludes me
I hope you manage to find some peace after the storm ✨
"I am thankful
to have a moment
where nothing is requested of me."
So relatable!
Beautifully done, Holly.
I have an outgoing loud family. This brings me back to car trips as a kid. I couldn't wait to get to wherever we were going, pick my room and close the door to be alone.
Great writing!
Then I have found my people !!!
This brings to mind thoughts of a chrysalis
Oh I love that thought! Speaking from within the cocoon such a thoughtful view jay I’m jealous of your mind
It’s your words that conjured it. :)
This is immense and what an opening 🖤🖤🖤
The backseat can stretch for miles sometimes. From torso to knees. Hands tired of speaking. Rest. Watch the sky merge once again x
Yes, long car rides can be my solitude I just want someone else to carry the conversations and leave me alone to my mind
Hollly, I understand all too well x
Love that scene where you’re tossing the glowing orb against the wall. It’s a lovely poem, Holly
Delightful!
There is something so honest in the relief of that final moment: “where nothing is requested of me.” After all the movement, noise, objects, thoughts, and conversations continuing beyond the door, the poem arrives at a small pocket of freedom. Sometimes rest is not peace in any grand sense—it is simply the brief experience of no one needing anything from us. Beautifully captured, Holly.
Thank you Antonio I have been discovering more and more lately how much solitary time keeps me well even if it’s short lived at times
“with a four drawer dresser around my
middle and every step I’m knocking my knees”
I always love the words you choose to paint the pictures for us.
thank you 😊 but also really don’t try and carry dressers by yourself they really did knock my knees 😂
Noted! 😂