Lines
I struggle with the worthiness
of visibility, a lifetime spent
hiding from my own shadow,
from the voices that only
wanted to see me, not hear me.
I lived under an umbrella,
the rain on the inside–
always a cloudy day
always a chance of rain,
though I remembered
the idea of sunshine.
I’m older now, wrinkles creasing
my face, just having started
to draw my own lines in the sand.
A small boundary at first, cowering
on the outside, but the line
created by an unexplainable
aggression no one sees
or understands, yet I feel it.
I sit in the shade in a parking lot
trying to keep from crying,
somehow believing they are
still listening from the other
side and waiting to tell me
they’ll give me something
to really cry about.
Aleathia Drehmer spends a lot of time thinking up new challenges for herself when writing poetry, but mostly, you can find her gardening, making fire cider and herbal teas, and messing around with astrology. She is the co-editor of “Brian Fugett: Poems” that is forthcoming from Citizens for Decent Literature Press. Aleathia is the author of seven chapbooks and currently has four collections of poetry available: Little Graveyards (Roadside Press), We Don’t Get to Write the Ending (Roadside Press), Looking for Wild Things (Impspired), and Layers of Half-Sung Hymns (Cajun Mutt Press). You can follow Aleathia’s journey at www.aleathiadrehmer.com
