The Shift- Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

She wanted a little room for thinking. 
With no room available, 
she settled for a chair. 
She sat there. 
To anyone else, it might have looked 
as if nothing was happening. 
Inside her, whole foundations 
were crumbling. Maps were 
unmapping. Paths
were unpathing. A tornado
of doubt did its perfect work.
Somewhere there was light.
No one else could see the rubble
rising all around her.
Also in that wreckage, 
her belief in fixing.
God, she was raw.
Now, now 
there was room.  

Shared by Sophie Stephenson