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.
Arms outstretched, I twirl my skirt flies ballooning into perfect waves I tilt my chin towards the blue parachute above me Daffodils Buttercups Roses Petunias Me
Dawn arrives and your spirals imprint the sky; I coast toward the lemon pink rings that glide tenderly upward It would be easy to slide
Illustration by Deema Alawa In the Crossing by Sara Lavan I felt weightless As the boat moved closer to the pier and The wind wrapped