I pick up the bow and arrow
again.
I aim
again, but
with all my intention
I miss the mark
again
and again
and again.
I am here
at the practice site
working to perfect my skill.
Last week
I hit the bull’s eye
again
and again.
But today,
I am an awkward beginner
off-kilter
my roots of confidence
seem unfounded now
and the knowingness of
“I am a great archer”
collapses like a body that’s lost its bones.
My aim is off,
muscles contract at the wrong time and
I can’t seem to find my plumb line
I view the arrows scattered all across the ground
and those all cattywampus
tangled misfires sticking out of the haystack
like a rough night’s messy hair
I could collect them
reload my quiver,
set in motion another round
of arrows akimbo
Instead, I surrender to this
extended moment
I sit back
and just watch the other archers
hit their marks with grace
I let the arrows lie
surrendered on the ground
along with my confidence
and breathe into the
fullness of humility
© Sabrina Santa Clara, 2025