The story of the South Korea ferry boat sinking has partly inspired today's headline poem. These families will forever be connected by an event they didn't choose.
Falling and floating,
she picks it up, and knows.
They are connected,
birds of a feather. A woman she hardly knows.
From how far away this feather drifted
is irrelevant and unnecessary to trace.
It landed in front of her, right in her face.
I'm here, and see you.
How she feels
is a tie-dyed tractor wheel,
a dream to figure out.
It rolls in and out, down the road.
Far away, connected,
she doesn't hide inside from my news.
She edges out of her own doorway just a smidge.
Should she reach out to hold her hand,
or wait for what seems, false and impossible?
How can you click the link to the shiny and powerful
magic of another,
and not feel their skin?
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