After a Migraine
A poem by Laura Foley

After a Migraine

I hear mourning doves, robins and wrens,
quelling my brain’s aural debris
that for days played too loudly with itself.
Now, I reflect how the mind in pain
turned reflectionless cave. Now, I want
to sip spring snow dripping from eaves,
long pine shadows latticing a snowy hill,
a world closed to me by migraine but
providing insight into imprisonment.
Now, stepping into a clear day of sun, of wind,
of shadows on snow, of birdsong, of stream
loosening from ice, I start to understand
where I have been, and with a heart
newly opened, take it all in.

About the Author:

Laura Foley’s most recent collection is: It’s This (Fernwood Press, 2023). Her poems have won many awards and appeared in many journals such as Alaska Quarterly, Valparaiso, Poetry Society London, Atlanta Review, and included in anthologies such as: Poetry of Presence: An Anthology of Mindfulness Poems, and How to Love the World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope. Laura’s poems have been turned into choral music and performed in venues such as the Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles and Carnegie Hall in New York. She lives with her wife, Clara Giménez, and their two romping canines, among the hills of Vermont.

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