By: Karen

Word on the Street Issue 42, April 2024

. . .

I am a Woman Lost in Time

Am I only a modern woman? I have felt the tug of my body into the 20th century.

But really where was I from? An Italian piazza with a wreath of flowers in my hair – clothed in silk layers, covered in silver and flowers which fly in the warm air. 

I pause very carefully, hoping to catch the eye of my gentleman as he walks toward me, scribbling madly on paper held up by the back of his friend. 

Our eyes catch! He dips his head and hand in a sweeping gesture. We are cautious. His rings on my fingers catch fire. 

We are celebrating Spring with song, wine and flowers floating on the air.

I am deeply ensnared in this celebration of love, hope and compassion – of planting the new to awaken the fields and our dreams.

My city, my heart is a feast that floats in timeless beauty.

We have escaped the Plague and drought. Our many flags flutter in the warm air.

I am lost in time. Someday I will leave this place but my soul will linger here always. 

Sono una Donna persa nel tempo de fioritura.

I am a woman lost in the time of flowering.