In the Restless Country 
A poem by Chrissy Stegman

In the Restless Country 

I found myself alive inside
the simple splendor of a fern’s fingers
dangling in the sunlight.

Gentle fingers pointing out
my window to the swallows flying 
with gladiatorial joy.

It was then that I became
unafraid. 

What I forgot to forgive in the morning is
what I carried around in my complexion
all those years. It was careful patience

showing me tenderness comes from inside
the heavy balloon of time.

What I lost in my last breath 
of suffering is what I learned
to love. 

About the Author:

Chrissy Stegman is a wife/mother/poet/forest dork from Baltimore, Maryland. Her work has been featured in various journals, most recently Rejection Letters, Gone Lawn, and Blue Heron Review. She is the winner of the 2022 Patricia Bibby Idyllwild scholarship for poetry and placed second for the 2022 Ellen Conroy Kennedy Poetry Prize.

Social media:
Twitter (X): @pimpledrose
Instagram: thegoosefaerie

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