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This Is Magic

April 10, 2019

By Emma Huckabee

 

I was born with the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair.

Everywhere I looked, I felt the beauty of creation

And the hurt we bring to it.

 

Autumn’s tradition perplexed me as I strove to find

Why the trees cast off their abundant green gowns into showers of red and gold

In return for winter’s careless mantle of snow on their bony frames.

 

I sat in silence by the seashore,

Wondering how the sea could love the moon enough

To follow its course forever in the tides.

 

On summer evenings,

In the hot, heavy air scented with citronella,

I darted through my backyard

Playing hide-and-seek with the fireflies.

 

I am a song-singer,

A tree-climber,

A star-gazer,

A love-bringer,

A wonder-child.

 

 

You were born breathing fairy tales.

 

In your eyes, a butter knife held the metal of Excalibur,

A dark, musty wardrobe was a gateway to Narnia,

And all the burrows and hollows in the flower beds were hobbit holes.

 

You saw battles fought in windless, empty fields

When you were supposed to be doing your schoolwork.

You felt for mystic runes in the tree bark

And listened for the barn cat to speak its greetings to you.

 

Crafting the stories given birth within your mind,

You find bits and fragments of truth

And paste them into an ink-drawn mosaic.

 

As I read your stories,

You transform the deepest intimacies of the human heart

So I can understand myself.

 

I did not grow up like you.

My world of pretend stayed pretend,

Because real was real,

And pretend was not.

But now, between the bindings of your book,

I can pretend, really pretend,

And I like it.

 

This I know:

You are capable of wonders—

Even magic.

 

You are a story-breather

A tale-spinner,

A people-speaker,

A mind-reader,

A magic-wielder.

 

 

Lulled to sleepiness by the murmuring fir trees

Whose boughs frame the freckled sky,

I lie on their pungent needles,

My gaze paying homage to the moon.

 

My mind is not in Middle Earth or Narnia

But in my world,

Where the magic infuses nature and ourselves.

There is enough evidence of it in a single page of our writing.

Yet we dismiss it,

We redefine it,

We call it by other names,

Because it can be understood in our world.

 

But I say that our magic is the most powerful of all

Because it can be understood.

Our Creator gave us more than enough

To give life to our imaginations

And inspire our wonder.

 

I see the sad eyes behind your courageous smile,

Because the honesty leaves an aching bruise.

The raw and fierce are louder than the hope and joy,

And the throb in your ears overpowers the whisper you know.

You wander aimlessly on the cold, barren streets of writer’s block,

And nothing comes out on paper the way you want it to.

 

I read that tale of hardship,

And the tear that falls is for your hurting heart.

 

So when the sun blushes over the mountains,

My warm hand interlaces your graphite-smudged fingers

Over the broken fence and through the dew-strewn grass.

I see the dimples in your cheeks deepen,

And in the hush and birdsong,

Our whispers and laughs can be heard.

For a while, I see the world as you know it,

And you feel the wonder as I do.

 

After your soul can breathe again,

You close your eyes

And lie down in the silence beneath the fir trees,

And when I hear your soft sigh,

I slip back through the woods,

For I have a story to finish.

 

This is magic.

 


Emma Huckabee (aka Emma Starr) is a realistic idealist in love with moonlight, music, fireflies, stripy sweaters, beautiful words, and good conversations. She is intrigued by humanity’s fallen state and strives to mimic her Savior by hating sin and loving people. When Emma isn’t singing around the house, teaching and practicing piano, doing homework, procrastibaking, collecting books for her future book vault, reading an L. M. Montgomery novel in a corner, or playing board games with family and friends, she enjoys writing poetry. As a passionate believer in the power of art, Emma dreams of hosting creatively programmed educational concerts by mingling classical music with other art forms.

22 Comments

  1. Evelyn

    Emma, this is beautiful! Thank you so much for sharing. 🙂

    Reply
  2. Susan Kaye

    How beautiful and thought provoking your poem is, Emma! A very satisfying read. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself in this lovely poem.

    Reply
  3. Gabrielle Pollack

    This captured my heart, Emma. I loved it! <3 Thanks for sharing. 🙂

    Reply
  4. Michaela

    Wow – I absolutely love it! 😮 Thank you for writing it!

    Reply
    • Emma Huckabee (Emma Starr)

      Your comments on Moonflower actually prompted me to write this poem. Thanks so much for guiding me toward more imagery!

  5. Andrew Schmidt

    Beautiful! I really like the detail. Great job, Emma!

    Reply
  6. Ellen

    Emma!!! BEAUTIFUL job, sweet friend!!! Thank you so very much for sharing this amazing poem with us all :-). May God continue to bless you and all your writing projects!

    ~Ellen (aka Ellie)

    Reply
    • Emma Huckabee (Emma Starr)

      Thank you so much, dear! I appreciate your support so much! *sends bunches of hugs and sunflowers*

  7. Libby

    Emma,
    It makes my heart so happy to see your poetry on here! <3 This poem is a jewel, so wistful and deep. Your message was beautiful and true. And your poetry…it lived and breathed and was so…real. Love this so much! <3

    Reply
    • Emma Huckabee (Emma Starr)

      You make me so happy!! I respect your taste in poetry and books SO much–you have no idea how much this means to me. <3 *hugs and love*

  8. Evie

    This is beautiful, thank you for telling me about this. You’re so creative ! <3

    Reply
  9. Emma

    This is so stunning! Thank you for sharing your beautiful talent! Never stop dreaming. 😉

    Reply
  10. Alex Mellen

    This was wonderful. So rich, like I can drink it in slowly and savor every drop.

    Reply

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