Molly Carew 9.03.19
Resilience is worn by hearts that have broken,
Been fractured in places where evil has spoken,
Splintered in patterns that strengthen and burn,
Igniting the chest in new flames that yearn,
To rise and look through new eyes that can see,
Beauty in all she thought rendered her weak;
Now she holds her diamonds, broken flakes of the earth,
In her scars, at glass edges: she finds her worth. 


One atom to the next

Molly Carew

The sunrise burns, alive;

Broken walls let in the light.

Freedom lies between the spaces,

Somewhere outside of what we know.

The moon seems whole, tonight;

Shadows rest, too calm to bite.

Clarity lies in the darkness,

Somewhere quiet, secret and cold.

When I find my home, my place,

It looks like you, it wears your face;

And I think that this is knowing,

This is choosing, this is a friend.

One atom to the next,

The closest I will come;

This is the meaning of life.

New tides

Molly Carew 11.12.2018
Tears swelled behind her eyelids
Though she swatted them away,
Soon their pressure turned to pain,
And her ties began to fray.
Knots bound in her portrayal
Were undone and weathered deep,
And so the curtain fell,
And she began to weep.
Each droplet was a memory
She worked so hard to forget,
But her glass broke into sand
Of grains she wished she’d never met.
And though it hurt her deeply,
Hearing all her scars would say,
At last, she could breathe freely;
New tides washed the grains away.

The gifts from our mothers

Molly Carew 31.03.19
The lessons you've taught me
Are boundless and deep,
The laughs that you've shown me
Through my rib cage seep,
The minutes you've loved me
Are safe in my heart,
The tears you've cried for me
We turn into art.
The gifts from our mothers
Are crafted by hand,
Gratitude of daughters
Veils ocean and land,
I want to say thank you
More wholly than words can express;
Without you, beside me, I'd be so much less.


Molly Carew 26.03.19
Please, do not ask ‘What is wrong?’ 
For it is everything, nothing, and me.  
Please, know that I am still hurting, 
Even when I might seem to be free. 
Please, do not make me feel guilty,
Know the target is never my choice. 
Please, forgive my resentment;
I only scream when I can’t find my voice.

A short piece on navigating depression and its grip on relationships.

This is what it is, and what it’s not

Molly Carew 17.01.19
It is not just my heart that is broken
It is not just my soul that is lost
It is not just my mind that is crazy
It is not just time I'm running out of.
It is not just the way that I'm feeling
It is not just the pain of a day.
It is hurting that transcends a body
It is not possible to escape.
It is not just a want to be moving
But a want to be finally moved
It is not just a lostness of places
It is not just a name for confused.
It is more than a wish to escape life
It is less than a wish to be dead
It is not a longing to stop feeling
But a want to feel something, instead. 

This is how growing up with depression has felt for me; of course, everybody’s experience with it is different and worth telling.


Molly Carew 7.03.19
Words and stories dance
Inside of her mind,
Thoughts sewn together
With threads of white light,
Bright flares chase and burn
Spiral through her veins;
Spinning towards something new.
Her lungs are wings
Angels borrow for flight,
Her whispers quiet
The vastness of night,
To see through her eyes
Is power unbound;
The knots of the sky undo.
When she extends her hand to the moon,
Silver fingers meet gold
And Luna can feel a heartbeat stronger
Than her own.


Molly Carew

For every fragment of time that we wandered apart, I felt like I was holding the distance between us in my hands; pushing and pulling, burrowing deeper into its soil until I was buried inside. I had been pressing my forehead against its window, glass impenetrable yet entirely transparent, painfully aware of all I could see but could not reach. Our distance was the closest thing I knew, and then in one moment, so much smaller than every other moment, somehow, it was obliterated, and all of this air flooded my lungs that I was not ready to breathe.

The Power of Words

Molly Carew [from: unpublished]

We lay side by side, bathed in the bitter silence of unspeakable possibilities.
“You are the reason people still believe in the power of words, Camille.” Her voice was small and sharp, compressed and retreating.
She reached for my hand under the covers and held it so delicately I imagined I was a burning star hung from the top of the sky by a single thread.
“So much gets said and heard in a lifetime. You are the reason people bother to listen.”

A Drowning We Make

Molly Carew 16.01.19
The tide is rising.
Perhaps the ocean is trying to drink,
The sounds of hatred to heavy to sink,
Too dark for this earth,
Too loud to just hear and sit still.
Perhaps the ocean is bearing the tears,
As pain cries deeper through seconds and years,
A song too afraid to be sung
Until we lie still.

Blood spills over. 
Perhaps, the land is falling. 
Weighed down by the calling
Of fear, it caves in.
Repelled by blood shed on
Its face, so its skin
Burns away with the heat
In our palms each time
We take a hit.
The sheet under our feet, 
So sublime, is collapsing each time
We forget that it's bigger than us
And so over and over again,
We take a hit.

Perhaps the water climbs,
Or maybe the ground breaks.
In any case, a truth lives
We cannot shake.
Rising with the tide, 
Or falling steps we take;
This is a drowning we make.