The paper in front of her was blank.
She knew she must write something, anything,
but couldn't. Her mind was stuck on that day.
The white of the page reminded her
of the white of those hallways, and again
she bristled with the cold, familiar fear.
Her arteries were stuffed full
with all the worlds of words that never quite
made it out alive. She strained ---
pressure snapped the lead. Frustrations
chained her to her writing desk.
She had arrived at a sign in the road:
DO NOT GO FURTHER.
Barricades and flashing lights cut her off.
Maybe she just needed sleep,
or time, or distance. Perhaps she ought
to have let the hurt scab over first,
before she tried picking it open.
All that summer the girl didn't write,
although she tried, felt the peculiar
itch pull under her skin, taut like stitches ---
perhaps that meant she was healing.
Gone temporarily insane, she
had to exorcise those truths to paper
somehow, or she'd crack.
But fear incarcerated her. Her voice, lost,
and her shoulders crumpled, like paper cranes
collapsing under the weight of her own expectations.
(Nothing good will come of this.)
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Summer of Grief - Poems (Online Chapbook)
Poesía❝ then learning ... she's gone. Like a dropped knife clattered on a hard linoleum floor --- then, stunned silence. ❞ Poems of grief, loss, and healing, written from an intimate perspective. ❋ ❋ ❋ Summer of Grief - Poems (Online Cha...
