A gaping hole wider than our planet’s surface
Grows inside her
and I watch
Yearning to pick her up in my wide arms and rock her back to whole
Benched on the side lines
I watch the game over and over
Screaming out profanities play after play
But…
it’s not mine
Not mine to play
Not mine to watch
Not mine at all
So I walk off the field
Hoping
Reminding myself to trust
The player
Her ability to fill that hole
Without me.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
Illustration by Sonia Chintha I They came for you like screaming red bulls, ravenous for the win. You held them off with picks and jabs
When I was young, my mom and I made it to the mall every Black Friday in search of deals. What we got instead, because
I try to walk Straight across Each step I place gently forward Focused and pure Genuine simple It feels straight It feels right It feels
I used to hold tight the story that my dad was an excellent cook when he got married, and my mom had no clue. Thus,