Most ATCKs will vouch that there is a thin, but strong thread that links them to the various places they called home. This poem by Ellen Michelle Beard, first published in the December 2021 issue, illustrates this concept.
"Silver Thread"
By Ellen Michelle Beard
There is a silver thread
that extends from my chest
fluoresced
glowing wispy ghost-possessed
wafting in the windblown east by the wind in the west
As soft as a breath
caressed
the silver thread
stretches over the stormy sea distressed
billowing and snapping through tide and tempest
lapped by each wave’s crest
Each tug reverberates back in my chest
with tension compressed
It does not brittle or crack under the bleaching beating sun
But the heat of the thread is felt in my chest
quietly sharp like lemon zest
Every snag and billow echoes in my chest
Unaddressed
The silver thread shaken by the wind and waves
still stretches on hard-pressed
guided by the celeste
toward the east
where it is attached to another chest
like a long tin-can telephone
pulled taught
whispering vague but constant thoughts
suggest
wandering like a letter misaddressed
a secret sliver of silver static
barely professed
guessed
Spider silk is stronger than a bulletproof vest
The silver thread outmatches that silk compressed
It will not break no matter how stressed
But alas
it is too thin for me to walk along like a tightrope across the ocean
the impossible quest
cruel jest
So I stay in house arrest
and feel
every
tug
Ellen is a visual and verbal artist. Born in California, she grew up in Osh, Kyrgyzstan, and Hanoi, Vietnam, and has spent the past decade living in Los Angeles, USA, and dreaming about her next international transition. She spends her time exploring the arts, cuisine, and nature of local, international, and imaginary places.