By Rachel Armes
My mind is noise today.
My daughter went
on her first school trip.
I wrote my number in her shirt
and keep thinking of her lost
and asking for help,
for people to read the tag.
My mind is noise today.
A building collapsed
hundreds of miles away.
The news article mentioned
small fingers reaching for help
in the early morning dawn
near the beach.
My mind is noise today.
I think of the girl
who was stolen when
I was five and she was six.
Almost in my backyard.
Blonde hair, blue eyes,
ballpark. Gone.
My mind is noise today.
I think of how I lost track
of my daughter at the park
and how she was so lucky
to have not disappeared
when she ducked into the tunnel
as my back was briefly turned.
My mind is noise today.
At five, my daughter can’t swim.
She slipped underwater
at the pool, and I jumped in.
Split second, little fingers
reaching for air.
I pulled her out. She’s fine.
My mind is noise today.
My mind is noise today.
My mind is noise today.
Rachel Armes is a grant writer with the UAMS Institute for Digital Health & Innovation. She graduated summa cum laude from UALR with a degree in Professional and Technical Writing. She is thankful for the role writing plays in both her professional and personal life. Apart from writing, she enjoys reading, gardening, singing, and spending time with her two favorite people: her daughter, Isabelle, and her boyfriend, Jack. Rachel has been writing poetry for 20 years.