The Choice

Poem

 

That was it
that moment
the suspense
me growing up
and saying no.

Suspended in the air
my thoughts were trying to grasp
the reality of what my brain just did,
and were pulling their hair out
just like an old witch
without any black magic left.

The tears, oh the tears,
and your eyes filled
a tumbling voice
of disbelief mixed
with you being proud
but hurt deep down.

Tearing my old skin
of the caterpillar I was,
and spreading my antennas
I became a tear with wings.

 

more by URSULA RABAR BABIC

photograph by Geetanjal Khanna

 

Image Curve’s Manifesto