a Poem by Raquel Swann
I move through the shadows creeping out of view. What am I?
I gaze at the sky wishing I had wings. What am I?
I sit under the shade of a tree, with my legs folded, dreaming of better days. What am I?
I find it hard to believe that beyond this vast ocean I have sailed upon that there will be dry land. What am I?
I am the final chapters that have been torn away from an interesting book. What am I?
I am a torpedo launched from a submarine with a broken guidance system. I aimless travel the ocean floor with no target. What am I?
I am a child who has dropped their ice cream cone and cannot figure out how to salvage or clean the mess I have made. What am I?
I am the puddle that remains a few days after a summer storm wondering when evaporation and the blazing hot sun will dissolve me. What am I?
I am the last remnants of sand laying upon a rock on a cliff overlooking the sea. I dread the wind that approaches, for I will surley meet my demise. What am I?
I am the injured bird hobbling alone trying to take flight again but the cats have caught my scent. What am I?
I am the lonely, the faceless, the hopeless, the author of this book that is being written for me each and every day. What am I?
I am the one who cowers, shudders, runs, denies, fears this reality. I am nothing. That’s what I am.