Easy, I yell,
easy, easy, easy
it echoes back as if I were standing in a cave.
I am not
I am in the courtyard
sun above
crippled into stillness
EeeeeeAaaaaaSsssssYyyyyy,
I yell,
like I am at one end of a tunnel and
my guide is yelling to me from the other.
I am not
I am in the courtyard
sun above
crippled into stillness
I should propel forward
I could step my toe into the tiny pond in front of me
crippled into stillness
I stare
easy echoing in my mind.
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.
Like a snowstorm in July I sit jumbled, puzzled, churning A shiny old-new problem presents itself, begging, poking, jangling me My toes curl over the
Recently I had a short conversation with someone dear to me about how she felt that she had “pigged out” that day. As I comforted
My eyes are steady now, my guiding light in this tunnel, shining the light on all the wrongs that could be should be must be