Poetry

Destabilise

I sit at the side of the hill, and watch the people below.

The grass knows me so well

it encourages my skin to take root;

I’m set back, unnoticed.

 

I can breathe for myself.

 

The hill vanishes.

My backside hits

the concrete

hard.

 

My reflection shows a put-out woman.

My heart encloses the child,

overwhelmed by the rushing, raging world.

 

It beats.