By Bobbi Sinha-Morey
The sunlight glared in my face
insisting I must go on or resist
the earth's magnetic pull and I
hadn't the will to move or budge.
It was all I could do to stand still,
watch in dumb awe as an unseen
hand quickly and quietly stole the
ribbon of dusk away from me.
There was nothing nor anyone to
cushion me if I fell; only the wind
obscured my vision and deep in my
heart I'd love a kind hand to touch,
slip a wedge between me and the
past so it won't put my life on pause
again just so I can put an end to my
quivering spirit, strengthen it to
press on, to never be afraid, never
lose sight of the years ahead, live
in a gentle space where it's easy to
breathe. I'll never forget how I used
to feel discarded like a forgotten
leaf and now that I've stepped into
a pocket of life living's as easy as
tasting the sweetness of a ripe
tangerine.
About the Author:
Bobbi Sinha-Morey‘s poetry has appeared in a wide variety of places such as Plainsongs, Pirene’s Fountain, The Wayfarer, Helix Magazine, Miller’s Pond, The Tau, Vita Brevis, Cascadia Rising Review, Old Red Kimono, and Woods Reader. Her books of poetry are available at Amazon.com and her work has been nominated for Best of the Net Anthology in 2015, 2018, 2020, and 2021 as well as having been nominated for The Pushcart Prize in 2020.