by Judy Crow-Phelps
Walking
i have ducked into my shells again. I am a progeny
of the snail. i recede into the safety of my shells
when my sight smells danger and strangers.
you walked away. you promised to walk with me,
paint me smiles in colours that will erase my fears.
you walked away. you went with the wind.
the whirlwind whispers your name all evenings.
the sea tide entwines my legs. i reach for your hands.
i fall, my hands clasps the wind not you.
i want to take evening walks against the sandstorm.
climb the hilltop. but who will trod along with me?
someone came. not you. our hands slipped out,
they don’t fit. in the night i do not sleep
i count the ceilings, the window panes, i count
the divisions on the burglary, the tiny flowers embroidered
on the bedsheet. i see your shadows in the wall
— happy face, sad face.
i see us walk together through the tides.
up the hills. we don’t take a breath.
Rahma O. Jimoh is a poet and essayist. An ardent lover of nature and tourism. She has been published in Serotonin, Versification, Sub Saharan, SpringNg, and elsewhere. She is the Poetry Editor at the Quills. She hopes her works leave footprints on the sand of time. She blogs @dynamicrahma.wordpress.com
Judy Crow-Phelps was born in Cincinnati, OH and currently resides in St. Louis, MO. As a latecomer to the pursuit of art, Judy has always felt an affinity for, and found peace in practicing her craft in various forms, whether it be acrylics, oil, or watercolors. Landscapes, trees, the ocean, and lighthouses are favorite subject matters. Vincent Van Gogh remains her favorite artist as well as Bob Ross. Why Bob Ross, you may ask? Well, because he is always so darn happy while painting and we all need to find that little bit of happiness in our lives.