I Prefer the Clouds Over the Sun A reality which wants to remain buried Sunlight guides me toward the dirt, The faded paint, the cracks in the seams of the walls as the house shifts, The gray carpets, now the dog’s canvas, stained to swirls of brown shadows, The windows old and dirty – Panes with cracks as thin as dental floss, Coal dust caked on furniture and in every fiber of cloth, A film that says we are poor-- Or lazy. The black dust inhabits. The clouds hide all of this And lets me imagine that I live in a palace like all the others Where there is space and light Shouting “I am Proud to be here,” And not ashamed as I am with the sun showing me what is instead of what - could have been. It’s easier to hide under the pretense of clouds So all seems fine, Without looking at truth as it cries through the windows Forcing a reality which wants to remain buried. I can’t see the flaws when the clouds hide the sun. I can go about my day looking straight ahead, But when the light shoots through the sheer curtains, My mood shifts to anger.
Bio from 2020:
Ann Hultberg of Northwest PA and Southwest Fla is a retired high school English teacher and currently an adjunct composition instructor at the local university. She writes nonfiction stories about her family, especially focusing on her father’s escape from Budapest, Hungary, to the United States. Her essays have been accepted by over a dozen magazines and journals including Persimmon Tree, Fevers of the Mind, Drunk Monkeys, Thorn Literary Magazine, Her View from Home, Moonchild , Mothers Always Write, and various publications on Medium. You can follow Ann on Facebook at 60 and writing.