Decisions and Deciding.

She used to love the winters,

the cold, frost-bitten nights

During which the snow fell heavily,

And stole every spot of light.

She used to take such comfort

In hot baths and a book before bed.

Now the world has turned so many times,

and with it, turned her away from things

she once knew so well.

She took each turn with acquiescence,

Though, perhaps, with a clench of her fists

She reasoned later as mere cowardice.

But now, she looks back,

After everything has let go of her,

She looks back and sees all she left,

all she let go of in the first place.

She sees that moment, the letting-go,

All translucent crystal and

color running together,

Sometimes, the images

are just sounds, smells, and pain.

Now, she wonders

How to move forward,

without being hurt by

what cannot be changed?

She lifts her palms upward,

and decides,

That’s not her decision.

Not at all.

Nesha Usmani

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