Too often now my mind
rests on the dismantling of bread
By ring-less fingers,
On dying petals of lace, the impatient trill of nature
Sounded urgently in the middle of night.
On why I choose to color my hair?
Bleach away pigmentation that life decided was enough to satisfy, to define.
Why my mother cried while she watched
My young sisters and I play in the waves,
When the sun made angels out of us
Because we were young and healthy and alive
Filled with noise, with vibrations
echoed from deep within our voice boxes,
sounded like history, like
the kneading of dough or upturning of dirt,
Matched with the crashing of the waves.
And I asked her, after she held me close to her cheek,
Pushing salt water against salt water
If I’d ever understand what she was feeling.
“God I hope so,” she whispered urgently.
“God I hope so.”
Author Bio:
Amelia Wright originally hails from outside Portsmouth, New Hampshire, the middle of three daughters from two wonderful parents. She began writing in middle school as a result of her seventh grade English teacher’s dedication to poetry and prose. She was able to follow this passion into her colligate career, attending Lesley University beginning in 2009. During her time there, she was able to focus on Literature and Education, focusing heavily on the modernist poets of the twentieth century as well as devouring works by some of her favorite authors such as Pablo Neruda, Octavio Paz, Kurt Vonnegut and Albert Camus. In the fall of 2012 she was able to attend the University of Richmond in London for the semester to study works of Shakespeare and other British playwrights and poets. She earned her degree in 2013 and since then has been continuing to write while pursing various graduate school opportunities to follow her dream of earning a doctorate in literature. This is her second published work.
rests on the dismantling of bread
By ring-less fingers,
On dying petals of lace, the impatient trill of nature
Sounded urgently in the middle of night.
On why I choose to color my hair?
Bleach away pigmentation that life decided was enough to satisfy, to define.
Why my mother cried while she watched
My young sisters and I play in the waves,
When the sun made angels out of us
Because we were young and healthy and alive
Filled with noise, with vibrations
echoed from deep within our voice boxes,
sounded like history, like
the kneading of dough or upturning of dirt,
Matched with the crashing of the waves.
And I asked her, after she held me close to her cheek,
Pushing salt water against salt water
If I’d ever understand what she was feeling.
“God I hope so,” she whispered urgently.
“God I hope so.”
Author Bio:
Amelia Wright originally hails from outside Portsmouth, New Hampshire, the middle of three daughters from two wonderful parents. She began writing in middle school as a result of her seventh grade English teacher’s dedication to poetry and prose. She was able to follow this passion into her colligate career, attending Lesley University beginning in 2009. During her time there, she was able to focus on Literature and Education, focusing heavily on the modernist poets of the twentieth century as well as devouring works by some of her favorite authors such as Pablo Neruda, Octavio Paz, Kurt Vonnegut and Albert Camus. In the fall of 2012 she was able to attend the University of Richmond in London for the semester to study works of Shakespeare and other British playwrights and poets. She earned her degree in 2013 and since then has been continuing to write while pursing various graduate school opportunities to follow her dream of earning a doctorate in literature. This is her second published work.
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