Photo: Alex Tomoff
Ha!
I got up from the chair and didn’t feel a thing.
Or did I?
Did I just feel the lack of pain?
Nothing hurt.
No taste of blood in my mouth.
As if the illnesses were gone
Somehow by a magic wish.
Carefully I walked around the room
to test drive my body. It didn’t hurt!
I even ate and …
My stomach didn’t shrink in pain,
Nothing tried to crawl back up,
It all stayed where belonged.
My face did a funny thing.
A thing I think they call a smile.
Ha!
I checked my hands.
They were not gray.
I checked the mirror.
A normal tan.
I did not seem
Like I had died 4 days ago.
I dressed and went for walk.
The sun was lovely,
It seemed like June
Not late November.
The sun caressed my face. I smiled. This time the smile was big.
I looked around.
People could look at me
Without averting their eyes.
And some of them, that was new, smiled at me.
I see …
The smile fell off my face.
I sat down on a bench
And waited
To wake up.
In his debut poetry collection, Sasha Sabota—a former criminal journalist—pioneers a new form of self-healing experience through writing.
Sasha’s words reveal deep social wounds and his own experience facing them.
It is all too real.
If you want to support an independent artist you know what to do ↓↓↓↓↓↓
Alex Tomoff 