Counting My Regrets
By Ashley O’Hare
Counting my regrets
is like counting pi—
The questions swirl through my head
like a tornado in the wild west:
Why can’t I be more confident?
What was the great purpose of being still?
Why didn’t I try?
I’m told not to dwell on the past,
but when my future is murky
the past is the only clear picture that I have.
Somehow my body pushes forward-
reaching new days while running on fumes.
My body remains on the stage
refusing to move
From the last place I felt at home.
The last place I felt safe.
The last place I felt like myself.