Pamela Hill
Faith
Ladybird, black spots on crimson red in the grass she crawls. By contemplating time
and the space in which she lives, her future appears to me by denudation; I see
obstacles in her way, dangers she will face. Should I permit her freedom to choose her
way, even if she chooses the way of hardship and a spider’s web? I attempt to warn and
guide her by closing doors with twigs and mud, but blood seeps from her knees as I
become the anathema. So I retreat to let her lose or win, and in the grass she crawls
away as blood seeps from my knees. God, let her win.
Pamela Hill’s poetry appears in Copperfield Review, Literary Juice, Ping Pong Journal, and other journals.
Return to May 2013 Edition
Ladybird, black spots on crimson red in the grass she crawls. By contemplating time
and the space in which she lives, her future appears to me by denudation; I see
obstacles in her way, dangers she will face. Should I permit her freedom to choose her
way, even if she chooses the way of hardship and a spider’s web? I attempt to warn and
guide her by closing doors with twigs and mud, but blood seeps from her knees as I
become the anathema. So I retreat to let her lose or win, and in the grass she crawls
away as blood seeps from my knees. God, let her win.
Pamela Hill’s poetry appears in Copperfield Review, Literary Juice, Ping Pong Journal, and other journals.
Return to May 2013 Edition