Sometimes in meditation I see a pinhole of light in the distance. It disappears and I can’t get it back, can’t go to the place it’s leading me. The same beacon from anchored boats on a dark ocean. I wake to light rising, to thoughts of two sisters in treatment together. Jolted back to when their pregnancies aligned– Elated until one lost the baby eight months in. Now the day is becoming overcast. I stare at the clean white rug, the table that once leaned in a forest. Sunrise, but I see no sun.
Paula Colangelo received an MFA in Poetry from Drew University. Her poetry is published in Connotation Press: An Online Artifact and in Lily Poetry Review. Her book reviews appear in Pleiades and Rain Taxi. She has taught poetry in a healing-focused program at a rehabilitation center in New Jersey.
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