Reflections on missing things
How can a girl survive a heart attack
and not have a heightened sense of
everything? The smell of evening is
a thick cloud of burnt wood.
Every light bulb pierces the cornea,
every taste bud explodes. How can
a girl with no feet, one leg and
two missing hands wake up in the
morning and eat her breakfast? Brush
her teeth, use eyeliner, get off?
How can a girl that hangs herself in
her closet feel the weight's release?
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Saturday, February 9, 2013
I think it's about time to revive this blog. I'm ready to push a little harder and try the April poem a day challenge. Hopefully, life won't get in the way too much. I've been very reflective lately. I've been thinking a lot about loss: the loss of my sister, the loss of friends, the loss of, well, innocence, as cliche as that sounds. I think there's a lot to write about. I think the world is at a strange little crossroads where no one is really sure what to do, how to react and how things are going to turn out. It's alternately frightening and exhilarating. I hope I can make some sense of it in my head and in my words. Time will tell.