Creative Writing

Indeterminable Audio Source

By Hannah Yale

Some kind of insignificant premonition

taunts me— the kind of person I should be.

I wish I was at peace,

in the cemetery or 

bathing beneath the olive tree,

breathing in the soft colors of dawn.

Instead I am here.

There is too much— 

noise, light, undeserved pride.

Can I go? Can I leave this unmade bed?

Can I find the strength to walk alone? to stay quiet and true?

Waking up flustered, 

and finding yourself in the middle of it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s