In Another World, You Are Named For Your Strength

Natasha Bredle, United States

define what a dream is made of, my love. alabaster wishes
or a metaphysical facet of reality, or perhaps just a theory
of its own, fabricated to pinpoint that subtle feeling of bliss
followed by the perdurable ache of longing—undecided
on whether to stay, whether to go. but dreams never fully go.
newton’s law applies here as well; dreams won’t fade to nothing,
no, fulfilled or forgotten, they become loss becomes tears
become comfort becomes another dream. see? i knew you
could find no words to explain it. but my love, there is no need.

i have watched the birth and rebirth of dreams within you,
and akin to snow crystals, fingerprints, people, animals alike
no two are exactly the same. but i observe a recurrent theme,
my love, in the moments suffering claims your fervent voice
and doubt overshadows your felicity and morale, your mind
travels to undisclosed realms—if your parents gazed upon
that wailing infant wrapped in yellow and granted her a
different name, would you be a different person today?
you fall asleep imagining, my love, oh, my dear love.

because surely with a different name you’d have a different
disposition, but define disposition, my love. the position
in which you land when you fall, or capacity of comparisons
in the presence of company, or perhaps the thoughts you think
when you are alone. see? each one differs minimally, and none can
be rinsed away like undesirable traits rescinded by vortex of vigor—
luscious substances, conditioner, hard sweat, discipline—no,
disposition can be stabilized over time, but it cannot be marketed,
bought, swapped. it is unique to you, my love. only you.

so if you could choose, would you really trade your name
for another? it is true, your thoughts would change, but are
you sure they would make you happier? my love, your anguish
has carved rivers in you, but it does not decide which way
the water courses, what minerals imbue each drop, what life
it is destined to nourish. your life does not end at just your
dreams and disposition, so let the wind carry you high above
the blue, my love, at least consider this: no, your parents did not name
you for strength, but perhaps all along, strength was named for you.

Natasha Bredle’s work has been featured in the Incandescent Review, Weight Journal, Ice Lolly Review, and Paper Crane Journal, among others. In eighth grade, she won first place in the Dove Tales Writing For Peace poetry contest. She especially loves delving into the realms of mental health and thinks a lot about the emotional capacity of human beings. Natasha posts updates on her publications on her Instagram, @natasha_bredle.