Back in Time
I wanted to return to that place,
the open field in Kentucky.
Open for opportunities that I
once considered. Ambition high as
I ran across the tall grass,
only stopping to scratch my
sensitive skin. Six-year-old
me holding my dad’s hand,
rough from work but soft
for me. Smiling because I
am unaware of our situation:
my father’s plummeting car sales
and my mom’s return to work
to help pay overdue bills.
But for a moment in the field,
my father was also unaware.
One Shot
Setup. Feet shoulder width apart.
Front foot angled, back foot
balanced on a beam of persistence.
The bow’s handle
placed on my palm’s lifeline.
How bad do you want it?
Pull. Pull apart the riser and string
back to a wall that is solid
like a concrete mind.
Carbon scraps on the metal arrow rest
like a sword being unsheathed.
My protection from the world. Pull.
String to face, not face to string.
Keep head forward, forgetting the
past. Hold. Breathe.
Put the pin of the sight on the X.
Push towards the target. Prove that
I am more than an archer. Push. Pull.
Wrap finger around trigger. Prepare to release
built-up tension that keeps me
from moving forward. Push forward.
Keep the pin on the target. Blink.
Remember why you are here. Pull.
Pull away from your old self.
The release of all my emotions along
with a carbon arrow, fletched with plastic
hope for perfection. Breathe.
Release the anger of not being enough.
Release the doubts of not being persistent.
Pierce the X to show everyone wrong.
The arrow twirls like a
dolphin in the waves to an X.
Carrying my hope to a target
I thought was unreachable.
Thud.
Hollyann Lewis is a junior at University of the Cumberlands. She is a double major in English with a Creative Writing emphasis and History. She uses imagery in her writings to reach all readers who love nostalgia.
Pensworth 