Bella Mendell, Author at Baltimore Beat https://baltimorebeat.com Black-led, Black-controlled news Wed, 09 Oct 2024 10:08:05 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://baltimorebeat.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/cropped-bb-favicon-32x32.png Bella Mendell, Author at Baltimore Beat https://baltimorebeat.com 32 32 199459415 Smiling https://baltimorebeat.com/smiling/ Wed, 09 Oct 2024 10:08:04 +0000 https://baltimorebeat.com/?p=18933 Brown and green hardbound books stacked together

I see you up there living the life I once was. It’s not fair that you stand there smiling. My smile was once bright, too.  Now the waves crash against my algae ridden body.  As I lay here lifeless, sinking further into the sea floor sand.  I see you up there, flowing in your pretty […]

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Brown and green hardbound books stacked together

I see you up there living the life I once was.

It’s not fair that you stand there smiling.

My smile was once bright, too. 

Now the waves crash against my algae ridden body. 

As I lay here lifeless, sinking further into the sea floor sand. 

I see you up there, flowing in your pretty dress. 

It’s not fair you stand there in my clothes. 

As the snails and small schools of fish swim throughout my decaying corpse. 

The sun scarcely parts the dark waters. 

The murky element tainting my vision. 

I don’t remember when I was dumped here, or when the others joined me. 

I don’t know why you grew tired of my soul. My reflection wasn’t perfect but neither is yours. 

And soon when you tire, that body will join us, too, I’m sure. 

You shed the layers you hate of yourself. 

And now we congregate. 

Slowly becoming an amalgamation of one. 

There is no longer a me or an I, but we. 

We are the ones you no longer want, we are the ones that made you whole

We are the ones you felt weren’t worthy. 

The rotting plants cover us slowly. 

I know how you work, I was once there. 

Slowly, the fish and crabs start feasting on which you don’t want to see. 

And soon you won’t have to look at the reflection in the waters you pollute and see what you have cast aside. 

I don’t remember my life. 

But I remember yours. 

And how you’re living the life you once stole from me.

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Coming Home https://baltimorebeat.com/coming-home/ Tue, 16 Jul 2024 20:53:50 +0000 https://baltimorebeat.com/?p=18063 Brown and green hardbound books stacked together

I start with trees, blowing in the wind.  No name, no face, just a calm breeze.  They came with their axes and loud machines.  One by one, my family fell by their hands.  Then me.  The harsh ground, shattered bark, rustling leaves.  Chopped up, up, up.  Half of me here, half of me there,  Wherever […]

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Brown and green hardbound books stacked together

I start with trees, blowing in the wind. 

No name, no face, just a calm breeze. 

They came with their axes and loud machines. 

One by one, my family fell by their hands. 

Then me. 

The harsh ground, shattered bark, rustling leaves. 

Chopped up, up, up. 

Half of me here, half of me there, 

Wherever they needed me. 

Soon, my divided self lay in a basket next to a fireplace. 

It burned but I relished it. 

My body blistered and charred with the rest of my faith. 

I wish the silence was loud. 

I wish it consumed me to the point where I couldn’t hear the crackling of my burnt body. 

The still lit embers sinking down into the cracks of my shell, 

Seeping further into my insecurities. 

My hopes went up in flames just as my home did. 

Burned up, up, up. 

I no longer felt the sway of my leaves, 

The tickle of the creatures making their homes. 

The way my roots absorbed the water logged soil. 

I no longer felt alive. 

No longer smelling the sap of the grand trees around me. 

I had given up. 

No longer do I believe in the great forest my great elders mentioned before me. 

My mind occupied with the isolating thought of drifting alone without those I love. 

As the darkness bloomed around me, taking me further and further away,

I hoped. 

I hoped and I hoped and I hoped

Until

I flew. 

High up, up, up. 

Through the clouds to the birds,

Through the families I’d never thought I’d meet. 

I hummed with the breeze. 

Instead of being rooted with the soil, forever facing north, 

I flew through the trees, through them all. 

Becoming my own compass. 

Rustling their leaves, scaring their birds, carrying their scent. 

I was home again.

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