Warp and Wept
February 23, 2024 by Eve Rafael

I wander the earth

Through these unreal cities

Have all the homelands turned to a handful of dust 

Have the nymphs and their trees met annihilation 

Has greed gutted greenness

Has the comfort of fraud

overcome the tune born of

plumb and true? 


I celebrate myself, 

and sing myself.

Or do I?

What song do I sing? 

What is a song? 

Who is myself? 


In the dead of night

I run full speed

My bare feet hit the sea-worn planks 

Like a clock 


Tick, tick, tick 


Warp and weft loomed with

The icy smoke of my own breath 


Boom, boom, boom 


I jump and for a moment all is still—

The moonlight washes me and I drink it in. 

A moment ago, I was all alone. 


The sea is lovely, dark and deep, 

And I have promises to keep

If I die this choice I make

I will die while wide awake 


I hit the water an arrow

A well oiled ship of the wind 

Unflawed, undefiled 


The water is of the womb.

I can breathe without breath. 


The old gods are here;

And they protect me.

The visions are comets 

Massive, unfathomable. 

Blinded, I am shone through—

 a clear glass window 


Every cell in my body

Awake, annihilated, and alive.

Window to nebula

Thrumming, dazzling blues and fuchsias 

Enormity

Peace. 


This could be our last winter,

it could be many more.

Will my life begin before it ends? 


With last night’s wine still singing in my head 


I asked myself

Will this cold ocean floor 

Rubbed by light

Bloom again for me? 


My body leaves a translucent trail 

Breadcrumbs of unbroken bubbles 


Sometimes I think 

I am made of ice. 

But yet

There still stirs 

A whisper

A whirl

Of life within me. 


Whirl up your pointed pines, 

Splash your great pines

On our rocks;

Overwhelm me with your beauty 

And your dark sweetness. 


The sky flashes 

The great sea yearns

We ourselves flash and yearn

And moreover my mother told me 

It is time to come home. 


I emerge into the terror of a new reality. 

I am being hunted.

The spotlights trawl,

Crawling on the surface of the water. 

I gasp for breath.

I cling to a guidepost—

But which to choose?

The swim is—

Not enough breath

I drag through

the mud of my malfunctions. 

The more I strive and strain

The more tightly bound I remain. 


Aint that a damn shame. 


Some days I weep for us— 

Salty waves crash on hard rocks. 


I see a new place

An old place

A place to slip unnoticed. 


I emerge from the water

Lift myself above the rocks

To the quiet forest floor

The moss a soft kiss on my feet. 


I run, but this time, silently 

I run, but this time, with joy 


A peace comes over me

I bloom, renewed; face warmed by sunrise 

Roots watered by melting glacier snow. 

Love rushes in; gentle, warm, and sudden 

And what was unbearably ugly—

Cool and pleasant shadows

exactly as they should be; unhidden. 




Eve Rafael is a third-year Film major at the School of Visual Arts. Her film festival directorial and co-writing debut, Push, won the Audience Favorite Award at the New York 48 hour Film Festival 2023. Upon completing her Associate Degree at CUNY BMCC she was the winner of the top honor in her major, The Academic Excellence in Video Arts and Technology Award 2022. Eve is honored to be learning from the esteemed faculty and working amongst her highly talented. Follow her creative journey on Instagram at @eve.rafael.