It has been the year of tests,
the year of my soul’s partial death,
the year that my guardian angel decided
to let go of my hand.
I ripped through the atmosphere for months,
trying to grab the clouds and planes above.
Each time I’d try to save myself, though,
they’d slip from my grasp.
So I continued to fall
like the first raindrop of a downpour,
crying for a parachute, screaming for someone to save me
from the cold pavement below.
No one heard me scream except the air.
No one heard me weep except me.
All I could do was brace for impact,
and pray to God that I would learn to fly
before I hit the ground.
I learned.
I scraped my feathers against the pavement,
but I learned.
Samantha Szumloz is a junior Writing Arts major minoring in creative writing at Rowan University. Her work has been featured in publications such as Moria, Woodbury University’s national literary magazine, and R U Joking?, Rowan’s comedy publication. She is from Hamilton Township, New Jersey.
