Samrah's Stories

Before: He commands all storms he raises his hands up, his breath freezes the air, he pulls the clouds together, They stay still waiting for his call His hands fall and then they break, spilling white flakes everywhere. the Trees begin to bend the roads disappear His voice rings out And the wind’s howl wildly when the storms power beings to creep the world becomes quiet, buried deep After: He calls the storms with his hands raised up his breath freezes, the air is still. Clouds? They wait His hands drop, and crack, the flakes fall scattered, chaos falls from the sky. The trees bend they shouldn’t be bending. Roads? Gone. His voice? Is it even a voice? The howl is there, as his power begins to creep the world becomes quiet too quiet— burying everything deep. In my revision, I tried let the chaos of the poem mirror the chaos of the storm. When I was breaking down the poem, I was trying to make it imperfect and funky just how Dickinson and Keats used imperfecti...

  Through this whole semester, the importance of water stood out to me. The flow of the water has consistently remained a crucial symbol in almost every piece of literature we analyzed. Reading the poem Watering the Soul has led me to reflect on the subtle yet profound role that reflection and nourishment plays in personal development. This poem reminded me that growth never occurs during our greatness, growth only flourishes through continuous care we give to ourselves. Just as a plant doesn’t visibly change every day, the most important transformations in life happen beneath the surface in the roots that are invisible to us. It got me thinking about how we all too easily overlook the invisible traces of our own growth. We often only focus on our big achievements we seldom pay attention to, or remember, the little day-to-day moments that helped lead us there. Nothing great was ever built in a singular day, and I often forget that. I believe the poem suggests that flouri...