With the remnants of my meager strength I slowly stand,
Turning the door handle, one thought guiding my shaking hand:
The least I can do is know it all.
My past reaches for me, clawing at my present;
Resolutions and promises shatter beneath me as I relent,
Scratches peeling the stars from my skin.
I relish my darkness, hysteria rising as all eyes see light;
There is no need to hide my scars in this endless night,
And none know the name I betray.
I blink to see a hand, flecked with scars of its own,
Reaching for me, as if I could still be known.
Blinded, I take it.
I breathe as one who has not yet known air,
The mark of a star, the imprint of a kiss on my hair,
And, faintly, “Let’s try again.”
Sarah Hughes has an addiction to writing, which lead her to read English Literature and Creative Writing at the University of Warwick. This addiction often manifests itself as illegible scribblings from ideas late at night, which would be inconvenient if she wasn’t exceptional at sleeping and deciphering her own handwriting.
She thrives on difficult Christian questions and loves discussing her Lord with anyone who will listen, from teachers to best friends to classmates. But what she loves most is sharing the love that sustains and saves her, in the imperfect way she manages.
Sarah also has a flair for the dramatic and enjoys exploring character motivations both on the page and off. When not reading, she can be found singing along to her favorite music, playing her guitar, or, most likely, writing. Her favorite days are uninterrupted writing days, the mystical mornings when stories are created.