Poems & Essays

13 Nov

I, Too

General/Column No Response

he leaps from the tree
like a newborn just birthed
and delivered into my arms,
my baby boy
who draws
the world into his every breath
and breathes out
blind wisdom and will,
he is fear itself who fears not
the absolute height,
nor the deepest end of the sea,
neither the darkest land,
yet like an infinite beam of hope
that rises and warms:
he stirs the quiet wind chime
because there was no wind,
he whispers the voices of other children
whose laughter are lost in youth,
he unseats my mind just enough
to leave me always fearing–

once again, it begins as it ends,
I will ignore the surfaced side of fear,
and focus on this hazy winter morning,
when my son scurries back on the rocks,
dragging up the tree with him
the cold air, loamy dirt, and brown leaves
that cling to his cozy jacket,
so, I, too, get up and dance–


You can listen to the poet read her poem here:




Lana Bella has had a diverse work of poetry and fiction anthologized, published, and forthcoming with over one hundred journals, including a chapbook with Crisis Chronicles Press (early 2016), Aurorean Poetry, Chiron Review, Contrary Magazine, QLSR (Singapore), elsewhere, and Featured Artist with Quail Bell Magazine, among others. She divides her time between the US and the coastal town of Nha Trang, Vietnam, where she is the wife of a novelist and the mom of two frolicsome imps.

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