The last shreds of her cocoon linger, drawing blood as it breaks, the pain as fresh as that first burst so many decades ago,
her wings are almost free,
but she keeps looking back at the safety of her casings:
yearning to be free, yearning to crawl back into the warmth of her former self
Split in two—two halves of one.
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.
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:
Blink, Breathe, Sigh, Smile 2:15-6:20pm | Thursday, September 5, 2019 Revise two papers. Answer text messages: Encourage dancer to audition for the play. Reschedule 3:30
‘Twas the week before the end of the quarter Not a soul could be found relaxing All were stressed, grading everything they saw Grading and
little puffy clouds large puffy clouds pillows large and small atop fences, cars, and tiny tree branches white, kind, brief white cotton blankets carpets unroll