CREATIVE WRITING

I Slip Away

Sophie Agbonkhese

Blurry night scene with colorful lights and building

I slip away, to seek stillness, reprieve.

I walk: first fast, then slow. Run from red emotions.

Running toward my thoughts, my centre: peace.

A waterfall of city noise deafens,

annoys. These other walkers, talking loud.

To one another? No—to their phones. Why?

Panoramic view of mountain ranges under a clear blue sky, with mist covering lower areas and forests in the foreground.

I leave now as my mind nears its limits.

Why read another book or have more talks?

Befriend new people or consume more noise?

Helpful information—I’m sure—but I’ve

not had the time to explore the wisdom

already written in my mind and heart.

White smoke swirling on a black background, forming abstract shapes.

I long to reach into the recesses

of my inmost being, the ones I can’t

ever seem to find, though I still rummage.

Combing through fragments of my memories,

and dancing through figments of the future—

excavating treasures, untouched relics.

Forest scene with a cascading stream flowing over rocks and surrounded by trees

My thoughts now come in verse, poetic, clear.

I used to think in long unbroken streams.

These are short and stilted, not fully formed,

yet in their conception, they’re made complete.

They rush, a raging river, whipping past.

I carry no journal, not even a pen.