The Meadow

I met you in a dream we tumbled
trees high around us your hair
in braids of meadow grass tied
with wildflowers and laughter.

I cried dew drops
on each blade until the sun
rose you rose you smelled of roses.
We whispered as fire rode the sky

all I saw was upward my heart strained
my tears churned into butter
your hands on me without shame
my body shivering under the heat

of that longed for connection I woke
to my own voice shouting
please touch me
I’m ready I’m wide
open.

Share
Shawna Ayoub

Shawna Ayoub is an essayist, fiction writer, poet and instructor with an MFA in creative writing from Indiana University. Some of her work has been published in The Manifest-Station, Role Reboot, [wherever], The Huffington Post, The Oxford Review and Exit 7. Her writing explores the intersections of race, place and survivorship. She writes with honesty about her own experience in order to transform pain.

3 Discussion to this post

  1. […] The Meadow is something new for me and my writing process. Again, it was written for someone else. I think it has a different sort of feeling than my other pieces. I have a series of earth-love poems in my drafts waiting to see the light of day, but they are a bit . . . um . . . outside my comfort zone. This was the most risky piece I feel comfortable sharing right now. […]

    View Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Latest Stories

Search stories by typing keyword and hit enter to begin searching.

%d bloggers like this: