The Hill Was Flat

I, too, have lost my child in bear country. Show me a mother who hasn't.

I, too, have felt fear grow legs, gallop through me, snap my sternum. Have run to any thicket that could hide a child and her empty pail. When you run, you could run faster.

Read the full essay in Ruminate (The Waking).

Previous
Previous

Luck Now

Next
Next

No Sugar