Category: Michelle Sagara

Michelle Sagara

Everything happens at night.The world changes, the shadows grow, there’s secrecy and privacy in dark places. First kiss at night, by the monkey bars and the old swings that the children and their parents have vacated; second, longer kiss, by the bike stands, swirl of dust around feet in the dry summer air. Awkward words, like secrets just waiting to be broken, the struggle to find the right ones, the heady fear of exposure — what if, what if — the joy when the words are returned. Love, in the parkette, while the moon waxes and the clouds pass.Promises at night. Not first promises — those are so old they can’t be remembered — but new promises, sharp and biting; they almost hurt to say, but it’s a good hurt. Dreams at night, before sleep, and dreams during sleep.Everything, always, happens at night.

Michelle Sagara

Life wears us down around the edges. The stress of life and its neces­sities cracks things. We learn to protect ourselves. We learn not to let so much of the world in, because some­times it’s all too much, and we don’t have the resilience we need to survive it. When we’re six, we make best friends easily. When we’re fifty, we don’t. That’s age and expe­rience for you.But books are different. We can let books in. We can wrap them up in our hearts. We can approach them as if we’re still young and open. Even so, it’s not as simple. Because we’re not as simple.(Source: State of the Writer, sort of, September 2015 – blog post)