Edna Bonsu

on the car ride home 

in the shadows of spring 

i laid my head against the brisk window and the robins sang 

my mother’s sweet voice hummed the words to a song i’ve heard a million times over 

but never understood 

gazing toward the setting sky, a drop of water on a mission caught my eye 

with my finger, i traced its path 

and eyed the drop, doomed to a life of descension

once it reached the bottom of the window, there was another 

ready to take the former’s place 

though so very simple i sat transfixed 

in awe of the fact that everything

in the history of the universe and galaxies 

had led to that very moment 

everything from practically missing the bus that morning, to the routine evening traffic 

i pondered how all the people who’ve ever existed, 

are somehow responsible for the breaths i take 

in a way i can’t quite articulate 

i saw myself in those drops 

i saw myself in the mundanity 

the incessant