I coast softly with the wind,
towards shore.
Sunlight holds me up; moonlight towing me in.
A vast ocean of rights and wrongs behind me: the lessons I’ve learned at every island.
I gaze back at the miles of green-blue waters and know I can rely on one constant and it’s the waves–
Some let me ride them to new destinations; some sweep me off my feet, pulling me under.
I drift into shore soon, so I better enjoy the ride.
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.
Behind her A mountain of ashes rise Tall, venomous Encompasses a year’s worth of darkness that took residence in her bloodstream and infected every inch
I have this need well belief really that I simply must be the number one person there for every friend in need. What this means
Year one: get swept away. Year two: design, shop, decorate. Year three? charge up credit card… fix, fix, fix, pay, pay, pay. And– finalize decor,
confused in a puddle I paddle slowly through past the sharp sunsets smooth sunrises barely avoiding icebergs yearning to stand on solid ground I gaze