nothing has changed

By Jyrylle Penarroyo

I wrung my hands in the sun,

settling in the impermanence

of the evening’s promise.

To surrender within the antonym of loss

—there I will sit,

waiting for tomorrow.

Beneath the solstice,

I seek for one last breath

that the wind I face is one full of reverence.

Do I muster up the courage

to fall into April waters,

knowing that I am but the same

in a world swayed by torpid currents.

Nothing has changed,

until one brighter day

where the orchids sing once more

of it’s undying grace.