...Toward the Sun

She shouted alone in an echoing space,

That grew larger and louder

Reaching above to the air,

Cool on her fingertips.

 

Unrelenting,

Invisible.

She stretched higher,

Without hold

 

Together, now a whisper,

Heard louder, heard clear

Is deafening and pleasureful

And warm and deep.

 

Lying down tired limbs,

Energized by nothing,

But thought and feel and hope

For once.

 

Orange and red and yellow,

Fuzzy, downy, and warm.

Soft to the touch,

Without touching.

 

Heard, seen, felt,

And nervous.

A foothold, weakened through time,

Strengthened by but a moment.

 

And further still,

With invisible hands.

Holding up and underneath,

Extended and pulling.

 

What to do,

Perhaps not.

What to feel,

She can’t help.

 

She relinquishes those,

She worked so hard to bolster.

She laughs, She cries,

She laughs again.

 

Now a wind,

In a whirl.

But steadfast,

She questions.

 

Connections made,

Lips upturned.

Head to the sky,

No longer, but forward.

 

And here, present,

A gift, her right.

She ponders,

On principle.

 

Is it easy,

Is it hard?
She’s yet decided,

But must learn on her own.

 

Unguided,

Uncomfortable,

Unabashed,

Unyielding.

 

On a bench,

In a park.

In a coat,

But no gloves.

 

She is warm,

She is laughing.

She is here,

She’s a child.

 

Leaves her bags,

At the door.

There she walks,

...Toward the sun.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Everett DeValle]

Strong and poignant...I love how the ending ties everything together. Lovely poem.