Firefly Eyes

Her firefly eyes are a dull strobe glimmering in darkness. But she is hope; dreams in a city seen as a decaying skeleton, whose hope flickers like the street light flowers they’ve planted in cement flower beds

He can’t see through the fog of a city’s binges that cloud his view, he is figuratively blinded. His only guide are the beats of his heart. He is hope; dreams in a city seen as a decaying skeleton, whose hope flickers like the street light flowers they've planted in cement flower beds

Their city’s been drowned with neglect and broken promises, and when humans are ignored for so long their hearts eventually stop feeling. Causing the mind to move them numbly through life turning humans to zombies

Firefly eyes & heartbeats keep them going..  but they feel heavy. As if cement flows through their cardiovascular system, slowly trying to reach their hearts and make another lifeless zombie of lost dreamers. 

They may be too young to understand why, but they’re growing up fast enough to understand how. And so, they’ve learned to protect their innocence but lose their ignorance. To save the innocent thoughts of holding on to dreams and that life can be good. But also told, “child don’t be foolish, gain knowledge and produce action to make them happen. Make life your library, not your prison”

So still, she grows in contrast. A rose in a desert, who’s cracked ground is broken by the 5 fingered weapon triggered by alcohol that fires rounds at her family. Critically injuring the only support system she has to guide her

But in this city that defines normal, red and blue lights labeled with a badge have no power here, these streets have rulers in the dark, a city controlled by shadow kings with empty eyes but her firefly eyes still glow

And he grows. Like a tree misplaced in a forest of skyscrapers. A life surrounded by the walls he built to support him and his family. For empty questions were all his father left. The boy-like actions of a man have been replaced with the man-like actions of a boy.

A boy who signed a contract to construct walls the day his father’s footsteps left permanent marks on the path he will never follow. Because if he doesn’t let anyone in, then he won’t have to face anyone leaving. Walls that will protect his heart, the heart whose beats are the only thing leading him in the fog, like a pulmonary guide dog to protect him from potential hazards. But he has hope..

But with time they wonder.. Is hope enough? Or is it an over the counter prescription life gives them to numb the pain and reduce side effects? …  

When open doors and rocking chair porches turn to open leg cash trade and porches made beds for homeless and addicts, games of tag n lemonade stands turn into the business of drug dealing, and youth playing cops n robbers turns real life; making grave yards of empty lots decorated with liquor bottle memorials. 'Cause childhood quickly turned into a corrupt system that put them on the fast track to failure.  

But deep down they remind themselves that maybe hope is the driving force that they find to survive, an anchor for the soul. I dare you to look into her firefly eyes.. a paintbrush blend of shades of brown & green because green is the color of hope and it surrounds a pupil deep into her soul where wisdom lays and determination is sweating, to keep coals of self-worth burning. Then a glow from within will send a small illuminacy out. So when she’s in the darkness of the city of walking dead they are like fireflies to be noticed. And if you look closely you’ll see flickering lights scattered throughout, you see, there’s more than one firefly in this city..

You can see the mark of hope in his muscles, a little more rugged. Like the words are tattooed in the trapezius that cross his back, and character in his posture. Weariness in the bags under his eyes, and wings folded but ready to fly. Because those who have to fight a little harder, and face more adversity are always stronger, standing a little taller, and who’s wings will spread a little further..

His heart is his strongest muscle of all, because he needed sound system heartbeats to keep focus and drown out the distraction of shadow kings and lost dreamers.

Laying their heads down at night; with her fist clenching a small cross necklace and him sleeping with his hand gently resting on his heart.

They breathe out heavy thoughts and weighted prayers, releasing them up, being carried on angels’ wings.. Hope in the God above.

Eyes closed, where imagination holds the paintbrush responsible for the continual images painted on the canvas of dreams created on the back of their eyelids as they sleep.. Hope in their future.

Covered from head to toe with the soft sincere hug of a blanket, engulfing them with a warmth not just of their bodies but to their souls.. Hope in having comfort.

Blood steadily pumping through their body as they lay.. Every vessel, through every vein throughout every part of their being.. Hope in Life.

Every night they close their eyes, to a heartbeat lullaby and firefly nightlights.. this gives them a little bit of peace for them to rest. She is hope.. He is hope..