Where the Mountains Are
by Anais Kelsey-Verdecchia
Three days of brilliant sunshine and all I can feel is dread for when it begins to rain again. She says, why did you move here if you can’t handle the rain, but the truth is I can’t handle snow or rain or sun or wind – it is all dark. I am cloaked in layers of heavy black velvet; someone wants me to mourn the life I lost. Is there still a sky somewhere. Is there still a sea somewhere.
The haze hides behind my eyelids so that when they see me they think, she seems to be doing well. When they are gone it comes out again and I stand alone, waiting to see what will come hurtling out of the fog towards me first. Sometimes I hope it’s death. Is there still a sky somewhere. Is there still a sea somewhere.
They are here, where the mountains are.