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an impulse to escape
the ground shakes
underneath my feet
I tremble
to the core of my identity
the sound of the rain
passing through the eavestrough pipes
reverberates off and in my ear
how much time has passed
who will notice when I'm gone
how long will it take me
to figure out and
untangle
my own inner state
my gaze falls on traffic a block away
and my own two child-hands
how can I use them to press on and
understand where I am
and who I am
within this space
it's as if something is frozen
and (sitting) so still
I forgot to grab my jacket
or maybe I
left it there on purpose
because I didn't think I would be
out here for this long
was it peace that found me?
so unsettled
I couldn't recognize
pull my spine like a string
sitting on cold steps
just to shut it out
Reminds me of what people
Reminds me of what people must go through during an earthquake.
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "