2nd Place Sad Girl Diaries 2024 Poetry Contest Winner
When she taught me to swim, she said,
only breathe if you absolutely have to —
as if oxygen was not needed
to live.
I often feel like a gray holey dishrag,
damp and forlorn, as if deep rest were
a lottery ticket stuck to the fridge
since ‘94.
We inhale work and the too muchness,
numbing our chance to flourish, always
wanting more. Could we, for a moment,
be full?
I will unravel from urgency, the Rest
Deck says. And as a mantra, it moves
me more than most things, even as dead-
lines encroach.
To really live is to find other currency,
as if real companionship were a million
stars, as if this galaxy could hold me while
I sleep.