I see through your game of pretense; the game of tag that has no end.
I see through you time, even when you slam minutes into the crown of my head—a hammer to a nail: pound, pound, pound
I see through you fear, even when you drag me to the edge of the cliff and taunt me from below, firing image after image of endings and uncertainties.
I see through you all
For I am above—
A sturdy mountain of truth and nothing is moving this mountain
Not today!
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.
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:
I am a merry-go-round of questions, unrelenting, nauseating with only one result at its end: spinning till pure exhaustion. I try to stop, dangle my
Illustration by Deema Alawa The Little Girl and Her Ghost by Celeste Bloom She was seven years old the first time goosebumps prickled her skin