I keep waiting, finger hovering over the delete button,
Inside I know it’s time, cut the ties, leave the memories,
But my anger fills my eyes, runs down my cheeks and I wade through the thick swamp of who am I and will you see me?
Will I see me?
So I leave my finger shaking just over that delete button,
Not taking action, even though my mind clearly states: delete, just delete.
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.
We. with our eighteen student classes, sunny campus, with a Mansion and a Dacha, forty minute lunches, two to three planning periods, endless supplies, technology,
My silence seemed like abandonment, neglect, angry to you on those days when I asked for a reprieve, a moment to gather, mourn, feel. It
Today I have returned to myself, the weight of your passing, a wound still healing. 30 days have passed. Today, 30 minutes I moved, releasing