A Villanelle for the Ones Who Know by Erika B. Girard I feel a change in the air today, like a mist, and my heart slows. It’s not a strong mist, but it’s a mist I’ve longed for like the dawn. This is the mist of two decades struggling to fall like ash on one who knows. Do you ever feel a mist and wonder if the ash will drift to rest upon your toes? I wonder, too. This morning it burned like fire for a moment before it was gone. I feel a change in the air today, like a mist, and my heart slows. The mist brushes in on a gentle wind, sprinkling me. It carries no more woes than the air of familiarity that rests so warm and thick and strong. This is the mist of two decades struggling to fall like ash on one who knows. The wind will not dispel the mist because that’s how nature goes— a testament to its persistence, like a marked-up wall. (Or maybe the crayon.) I feel a change in the air today, like a mist, and my heart slows. It reminds me that life goes on. Springtime will return with the mist, meadows as lush as before, before the morning (or was it evening?) that my mind lingers on. This is the mist of two decades struggling to fall like ash on one who knows. I can never quite recall what happened that fateful day. The memory of it echoes, blurred by childhood and retellings. Yet I smile now at a strange phenomenon: I feel a change in the air today, like a mist. And my heart slows. This is the mist of two decades struggling to fall like ash on one who knows.
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Erika B. Girard is currently pursuing her M.A. in English and Creative Writing with a concentration in Poetry through SNHU. She graduated from Saint Leo University in Florida in 2019 with her B.A. in English Literary Studies and a minor in Hospitality Management. Originally from Rhode Island, she derives creative inspiration from her family, friends, faith, and fascination with the human experience. Her work appears or is forthcoming in The Alembic, Iris Literary Journal, Sandhill Review, Wild Roof Journal, and more.