Passing by with Dragonfly

There you were
sitting solid on a leaf
after much zipping through.

Your thousands of shimmering
blue green eyes
join my humble two
brown ones
for a moment.

Together we peer
at Hall’s Pond reflecting back
the murkiness I need to muck through.

Your wings, so certain, see through
my chapter after Boston:

even as I grieve
the people and places
I’ve blurred past
like a liquid dream,
still they’ve etched solid lines
beautifying my wings,
webbing me into
buzzing story.

Reema Baniabbasi

When I Walk Through That Door, I Am: An Immigrant Mother’s Quest
The walk lost me