Just Passing Through
by Mandy Brown
My brain has yet to relearn
the code for sunshine. So today I woke with untethered
sorrow just because. But also today
my four-year-old daughter gave me a dozen confetti kisses,
informed me I am her best momma. And today
I forgave someone, and today
the code for sunshine. So today I woke with untethered
sorrow just because. But also today
my four-year-old daughter gave me a dozen confetti kisses,
informed me I am her best momma. And today
I forgave someone, and today
four good morning messages from people far away
waited on my phone, and I texted my father to thank him
for being the first to love me best. And today
waited on my phone, and I texted my father to thank him
for being the first to love me best. And today
the abused puppy I adopted shakes with excitement that
the tree outside my bedroom window is blooming white
popcorn buds. And today
my pain sits next to me, thankful I can afford its bus ticket,
comforted to know I will still wait at the stop to smile and
wave it goodbye just because.
comforted to know I will still wait at the stop to smile and
wave it goodbye just because.
* * * * *
Mandy Brown (she/her) is a queer Central
Texas poet, a 2019 Poetry Half-Marathon winner, and the 2013 recipient of A
Room of Her Own Foundation's Tillie Olsen Fellowship. Her poetry has been
published or is forthcoming in Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Writers
Resist, Eunoia Review, and more. Mandy currently teaches at an alternative
school for high-risk students and loves it! Read more at mandyalyssbrown.weebly.com.
Uplifting
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