One day,
she sits alone,
and understands it all.
That she’s never been alone.
That all this time
their pain has lived within her,
pain she never asked for,
pain that is not hers to bear.
Clear air is what she knows she is,
not charcoal-grey squalls,
nor black-rimmed mud.
A heavy reality,
a scared, scared world
drowns her in the darkness
of humanity’s shadow.
Until she removes the soot
and clears the air
once again.
2 replies on “Clear Air”
Thoughtfully done. Personification. Literal clear air? Metaphorical clear air? Both and? Lovely and so ponder worthy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, lovely Keith. ☺️I think that is the absolute magic of the readerly/writerly connection. The question is presented by the writer: and the answer is whatever it is, to the reader. The answer may be exactly the same, for both. The answer may be different. Either way, the answer is absolutely perfect. Absolutely as it should be. ☺️✨
LikeLike