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.
Tilt my chin to the skies and envision your skies: mostly gray, maybe cloudy, framed by the pine greens and you— With your bright ass
The ultimate measure of a woman is not how many balls she can keep up in the air, but in the strength she gives herself
“The last thing you want to take home is regret, right?” Kim, my zip-lining tour guide said to me as she clipped me to the