“Shadow” by Heather Chamberlain

On the ground a familiar shadow is cast;

a scene I recall from a distant past.

Sunlight dances, tree branches sway-

out the window I gaze unto a previous day.

The shadow grows angry, and larger, and still

larger. I lean closer to the window sill.

It looms over a child; overbearing.

Spit erupts from its mouth as the shadow starts swearing.

Its dark fist pumps the air, then it raises its hand,

the little girl cowers; on her cheek it lands,

then again, and again, before the shadow storms away.

The girl remains frozen from her child’s play;

overcome with shame for her crime of the day.

Tears well in my eyes. I look away.

Photograph made available by Martino Pietropoli via Unsplash