She releases a shiver,
a sight unclean.
She runs
for the headland,
willing to toss herself to gods.
Tied
to visions, that grab at her
without consent.
Cut too short.
She stumbles
like a lamb,
though she is old.
A browned leaf
in hostile wind.
She bends back.
She cracks.
She does not break.
But tumbles.
A version of this poem first appeared on Poet’s Corner April 26th, 2016 under the title “Trauma”.