A Choice

Are the stray hair
Caught in my eyelash there
During silent sitting
Are the hot knot
Churning hungry in my gut
While I am sitting still
Are the bones
Below my toes grinding
Into the ground
When I chose not to move
Are the decision
I may have to make
Once I get up
To go through my day
For now will simply feel
The tug and sting in my eye
The rot and rumble in my gut
The gristly grating in my bones
The desire to choose in my chest
Will sit with


frida-kahlo-the-broken-columnThe Broken Column, Frida Kahlo

~ by April on September 9, 2014.

2 Responses to “A Choice”

  1. inclusive; benignedly compassionate

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