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Promises To Spring: A collection of Poetry by Mirela Athanas

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Mirela Athanas

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“When I was a child, my father forbade me to read science fiction or fantasy. Trash of the highest order, he said. He didn't want me muddying up my young, impressionable mind with crap. If it wasn't worthy of being reviewed in the Times, it did not make it onto our bookshelves. So while my classmates gleefully dove into The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, A Wrinkle in Time, and The Borrowers, I was stuck reading Old Yeller. My saving grace- I was the most popular girl in my class. That's not saying much; it was easy to be popular at that age. All you had to do was wear your hair in French braids, tell your friends your parents let you drink grape soda every night at dinner, and take any dare. I stood in a bucket of hot water for five minutes without having to pee. I ate four New York System wieners (with onions) in one sitting. I cut my own bangs and- bam!- I was queen of the class. As a result I was invited on sleepovers practically every weekend, and it was there that I cheated. I skipped the séances and the Ouija board. I crept into my sleeping bag with a flashlight, zipped it up tight, and pored through those contraband books. I fell into Narnia. I tessered with Meg and Charles Wallace; I lived under the floorboards with Arrietty and Pod. I think it was precisely because those books were forbidden that they lived on in me long past the time that they should have. For whatever reason, I didn't outgrow them. I was constantly on the lookout for the secret portal, the unmarked door that would lead me to another world. I never thought I would actually find it.”

ChildhoodBooksPopularityAnother WorldLux
Book:Valley of the Moon
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“Pero me sobran motivos para ser feliz. Sobre todo cuando estoy en los brazos de mis tres misses. Son tres gentiles damas a las que se llega cuando las cosas adquieren una claridad inusitada: Miss Antropía, Miss Oginia y Miss Eria; pero no las comparto, como hago con el resto de mis mujeres.”

HappinessMiseryMisogynyEpiphanic MomentMisantropy
Book:Una mosca devastada y deprimida sobreviviendo en un hilito de sangre
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“ذات مرة كنا كلنا اطفالا، وكانت فصول الصيف أدفأ،عشت ذات مرة ، وأنت أحببتني ذات مرة. في يوم من الأيام. أهناك عبارة محزنة اكثر من هذه: مرة في يوم من الأيام ولكن ليس بعد ذلك. كنت طفلا في يوم من الايام، كانت أيامنا قصور حكايات خرافية في يوم من الايام ، ثم غرفت في حنايا غابة مظلمة وفقدت، سمحنا لذلك أن يحدث، ومازلنا نسمح له أن يحدث, نسمح للحياة أن تركد ، أن تغدو أصلب, فإلي أين تذهبين يا حياة،و أين انت يا رأفة؟”

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Book:Hjarta mannsins
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“Hadn’t my family been stupid to breed for magic? Someone like Hiss had been bound to pop up eventually. And then you got a not-particularly-wise, not-particularly-happy little boy who couldn’t be trusted with a sharp knife at the dinner table in case he accidentally cut his own hand open, and yet who had the power to defeat an army. How else could this have ended, other than with him being used as a weapon against us?”

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Book:Hiss
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