The challenges of the past two years have changed the way we live, the way we work, and the way we show up for each other. They have also given us a rare chance to collectively reimagine our future. Through the Reimagine Seattle Storytelling Project we invite community members to reflect on their current experiences in Seattle, how they have been impacted by recent events, and their hopes for the future of our city.
prayer as a walk through Ravenna in the Winter
by Brian Dang
| this city is notorious for the dark | ||
| it’s true | ||
| winter is a funeral for color | ||
| we’ve all seen the chart: the grey. |
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| the seattle freeze, a historical coldness, even, | ||
| hard to make friends, or something. nobody knows how to define it. | ||
| what’s that about? | ||
| is it true? | ||
| you quickly become metamours with solitude | ||
| you arrive at affection for it, unprepared | ||
| when my edges came loose | ||
| and I began to collapse, inwards |
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| I moved in nearby after living in the outskirts | ||
| I was grieving | ||
| if I’m being honest, I was — |
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| Ravenna Park taught me how to live. | ||
| there are three paths: | ||
| the north trail | the service road | the south trail |
| each path has its own magic |
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| you can lay your fingers on the overhead bridge’s steel beams (there are two) | ||
| plan to cross them later, the many bridges | ||
| knock on a fell maple’s door, a root system of messy hair and a home (there are two) | ||
| swim at the playground, in children’s laughter, the barking of dogs, thwacking of rackets, dribbles of basketballs, zooming of ziplines (there are two) | ||
| the basketball gets stuck in the old hoop, but it’s endearing | ||
| sit on a bench where the creek sprints loudest (there are two) | ||
| a friend shares poetry with me at these benches, tells me she’s thinking of me | ||
| run your hand through sword ferns like hair you’re braiding (there are so many) | ||
| step mindfully across the narrow bridge to the erratic (there is only one, depending on who you ask) | ||
| I come to this rock when I need to see the wind’s arms take up the fir tree’s arms | ||
| when I need to trust water | ||
| when I need to trust quiet | ||
| I’ve been beat over the head twice in the last year, | ||
| it’s mostly a confusing affair, when walking in your city | ||
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