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 the tightened jaw I’ve become accustomed to.
Though my tightened heart still spills the memories and my tightened mind still spills unyielding questions that will forever go unanswered,
Today without you, and with you, I’ve returned as myself, the weight of your passing, a boulder I’m learning to carry,
A boulder that pushes me to get stronger.
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 tight spindle on sharp threads wind through every corner of her mind, slicing open ancient wounds–a perpetual pain machine unrelenting. Most would want it
“I want to be a lawyer,” (so I’m going to argue with you about everything,) Yeah? “like what makes a poem a poem?” Anything “Yeah