March 5, 2014 / Creative Writing
In this poem by Rebecca Lauren, a granddaughter recalls a missing family member.
The desire is to dive down,
slip under the surface,
slide effortless through blue.
To let go of breath in all
its regular insistence,
the heart’s demands.
To see beneath, a milky
light arresting altered eyes,
liquid dissolving distances
between what’s concealed
and visible. The flesh
permits departure
not escape. The body
quieted, not shed. Arms
propel, limbs animate,
their rhythm patterning
our daily breath,
while we swim
in substances we barely see,
through and into, but
not beyond.
About the Author
Jennifer Stewart Fueston
Jennifer Stewart Fueston writes in Longmont, Colorado, where she lives with her husband and young son. She has published poems in the Priscilla Papers, Relief, and Ruminate, and she has forthcoming work in the Cresset and Windhover. Her first chapbook of poetry, Visitations, was released by Finishing Line Press in 2015. Stewart Fueston holds degrees in rhetoric, composition, and literature from Colorado State University and Bethel University in St. Paul, Minnesota. She has taught writing at the University of Colorado, Boulder, as well as internationally in Hungary, Turkey, and Lithuania.
Rebecca Lauren
March 5, 2014 / Creative Writing
March 5, 2014 / Creative Writing
