windowless rooms

there are shadows nested in me
a womb of quiet wraiths
x-ray proof
hand-me-downs i never chose
bequeathed from meagre pickings
can’t hand them back

so i carry them close
pressing warmth against
their chill to soften the sting
in hope to remind me
we don’t see our footprints
until we look back

hope

The duck appeared from behind her, flying low overhead,
a sudden pronouncing ‘swish’ in the air, then gliding silently
toward the river.

She shaded her eyes and watched it’s final approach to the water,
surprised by how ungainly it was in the final moments, seeming to
doubt its abilities with sudden last minute adjustments to its pitch,
belying the thousand other landings it must have made.

She looked down and rested a hand on her belly, crumbles of sunlight on her dress
filtered through the soughing leaves above.

Everything safe and contained. Her body knew what to do,
she didn’t have to think or worry for now.

She looked back up at the river and saw the duck, now bobbing gently
across the cool, supportive ripples of the water, serene in it’s normalcy,
and offered up a quiet prayer.