Each time the seasons change
It rises above sea level
Waiting to be released
Waiting to flood and force
A reboot
Each time the seasons change
It tightens in to the tightest of knots
Ready to break, to allow a clean break
A new start
Each time the seasons change
It builds, it boils, it twists
Filling my eyes, my soul, my body
But there’s no clean break here
No reboot
Just static silence
Until the season changes and it dissolves temporarily
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.
Illustration by Scout Mayo My body is a temple of fool’s gold, ornamented with masterpieces of my children’s making, which are hastily taped or glue-stuck
A matrix of lines stare back at me–a list of endless possibilities for a day of discovery. My feet my only transportation; oh glorious liberty: