Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Descent


even the small poems mean something, they are
often whales in the bodies of tiny fish. 
-nayyirah waheed

The alarm sounded at nine on Thursday morning. It was just a drill.
All the same, the suits went marching down 23 flights of stairs.
Fearing an avalanche of shirts and ties if I slipped
I sang to myself, Step, Step, Step, keeping cadence with the rhythm of my feet.
I reached the bottom safely, muscles long asleep quivered awake.

Today another bell rang, but not the office safety kind. This was not a drill.
All the same, I went marching down 14 years of memories. Engrossed,
I forgot my fears of the avalanche. I slipped, stumbled, recovered my footing.
The familiar song Step, Step, Step chirped in the background.
Tired, but whole, I reached the bottom, muscles long asleep quivered awake. 




4 comments:

  1. Angela, you are such a gift. The way that you put feelings and exquisite descriptions into words is a beautiful tapestry of life. Love you. Christine Lu

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    1. Thank you for your continued support, Christine. xo

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  2. So much goodness stacked line upon line here. My heart picks up every time I read your cadence. Awake and strong. Just like you. Xo
    {I think it gobbled my first comment. So if not, never mind. But it will always bear repeating how happy my heart is to find yours.}

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    1. Awake and strong is the best thing you could see or say. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Also: Blast that blogger comment-gobbler!

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