help_japan Found Poetry for allthingsholy: Why Go Back? | Bones Fandom
Title: Why Go Back?
Rating: PGish
Disclaimer: (better safe than sorry, after all) - Bones isn't mine, etc.
This is found poetry for allthingsholy, who very generously donated to help_japan. ♥
("Found poetry is a type of poetry created by taking words, phrases, and sometimes whole passages from other sources and reframing them as poetry by making changes in spacing and/or lines (and consequently meaning)." Source)
The source material is her absolutely gorgeous Bones fic, and the earth is a little bigger.
Why Go Back?
She knows
just beyond the clearing,
there’s a waterfall
that drops into a small canyon
that feeds a stream
that meets the ocean.
She writes to him-
(she holds him at arms’ length)
It makes her feel
closer
to him-
(she'd wanted something to hold onto
while he was so far away)
The air smells faintly of spices,
and she spends whole nights lying awake,
listening to the sound of the shore,
or the trees,
the scent of nutmeg weaving its way
into her hair.
Her name is Temperance,
the woman you love.
It means
moderation in action or feeling,
not doing the thing you want to.
(He keeps her at arms’ length.)
The island is hot
and humid
and it rains all the
time
heat still presses in on them
from every side
He wonders
(sometimes)
if he should’ve left her to her
fossils and
artifacts,
parsing stories of the living
from the remains of the dead,
left her reconstructing the world,
instead of cataloging all the ways it’s
falling apart.
Maybe there is no grand conclusion.
Maybe there is no way to change the world.
It’s something solid to
hold on to,
when the rest of it seems to
pass through his
hands
like sand.
Maybe I am just a grave robber.
(there’s no sense in
pretending
otherwise)
The breakthrough comes
nine months
into her stay.
(A waterfall
that feeds a stream
that meets the ocean. )
They’re rewriting
history with
their hands in the soil and
the dust in their eyes
we are asking for trouble,
and are looking hard enough that we will
surely find it
and Brennan has never been quite so
happy.
(all she can think of is
the Mall
at night,
the Washington Monument looming over them,
and her temple
resting
sadly
on Booth’s shoulder)
We’re all holding our breaths and
waiting to come to the end of the line,
and look back and see something magnificent.
Like there are possibilities
upon possibilities,
and humanity has come from
somewhere she can see and
understand,
and now it can go anywhere
(It’s a hard thing to teach,
but he does his best.)
He pulls his shirt on
and buttons it slowly,
and the weight against his chest feels
empty
already
but
also
free.
She tips her neck back and
closes her eyes, and thinks of
the sky and
the rain and
the waterfall and
the ocean and
the way that the world can change
by tiny fractions.
He knows there is
far more
gray area
in the world than he’d
ever
thought possible.
The world can change.
She can change.
“I know.”
.
Rating: PGish
Disclaimer: (better safe than sorry, after all) - Bones isn't mine, etc.
This is found poetry for allthingsholy, who very generously donated to help_japan. ♥
("Found poetry is a type of poetry created by taking words, phrases, and sometimes whole passages from other sources and reframing them as poetry by making changes in spacing and/or lines (and consequently meaning)." Source)
The source material is her absolutely gorgeous Bones fic, and the earth is a little bigger.
Why Go Back?
She knows
just beyond the clearing,
there’s a waterfall
that drops into a small canyon
that feeds a stream
that meets the ocean.
She writes to him-
(she holds him at arms’ length)
It makes her feel
closer
to him-
(she'd wanted something to hold onto
while he was so far away)
The air smells faintly of spices,
and she spends whole nights lying awake,
listening to the sound of the shore,
or the trees,
the scent of nutmeg weaving its way
into her hair.
Her name is Temperance,
the woman you love.
It means
moderation in action or feeling,
not doing the thing you want to.
(He keeps her at arms’ length.)
The island is hot
and humid
and it rains all the
time
heat still presses in on them
from every side
He wonders
(sometimes)
if he should’ve left her to her
fossils and
artifacts,
parsing stories of the living
from the remains of the dead,
left her reconstructing the world,
instead of cataloging all the ways it’s
falling apart.
Maybe there is no grand conclusion.
Maybe there is no way to change the world.
It’s something solid to
hold on to,
when the rest of it seems to
pass through his
hands
like sand.
Maybe I am just a grave robber.
(there’s no sense in
pretending
otherwise)
The breakthrough comes
nine months
into her stay.
(A waterfall
that feeds a stream
that meets the ocean. )
They’re rewriting
history with
their hands in the soil and
the dust in their eyes
we are asking for trouble,
and are looking hard enough that we will
surely find it
and Brennan has never been quite so
happy.
(all she can think of is
the Mall
at night,
the Washington Monument looming over them,
and her temple
resting
sadly
on Booth’s shoulder)
We’re all holding our breaths and
waiting to come to the end of the line,
and look back and see something magnificent.
Like there are possibilities
upon possibilities,
and humanity has come from
somewhere she can see and
understand,
and now it can go anywhere
(It’s a hard thing to teach,
but he does his best.)
He pulls his shirt on
and buttons it slowly,
and the weight against his chest feels
empty
already
but
also
free.
She tips her neck back and
closes her eyes, and thinks of
the sky and
the rain and
the waterfall and
the ocean and
the way that the world can change
by tiny fractions.
He knows there is
far more
gray area
in the world than he’d
ever
thought possible.
The world can change.
She can change.
“I know.”
.