by STEPHANIE VON BULOW - January 12, 2021
It seems as if I am a grain of rice.
Such a simple little thing.
Dropped. Forgotten.
One day to be found in the corner of the kitchen.
Such a forlorn little thing.
Alone I am feeble and weak.
As I grow, I drown.
Such a pitiful little thing.
Gasping for air.
I don’t weigh a bit,
Such an empty little thing,
So small in stature.
Together with other grains I have strength.
Such a mighty little thing.
I yearn to be more.