How can I walk in the sun
when I am blind
and no one’s child anymore?
I am tired in my bones
in my very breath.
Yet I go on
step by step
day by day
Searching for what was
when it can be no more.
The sun willows down my arms
kisses me on my aging head
breathes warmth into the cold.
I am just one soul
in this vast and harried world
and I question my value.
Does it matter if I walk forward
when so much is left behind?
Who is listening?
Who is noticing?
I cannot fathom the rippling wave
of my life
in this titanic sea of humanity.
Is it all real?
Do I really exist?
And more importantly:
Why?
StoryGirl 