Two Poems by Sara Smith






Find the Door

Deeper and darker I fall
Into a rabbit hole that’s supposed to feel like home
Tried squeezing into those ballet flats for months on end
Blisters remind me that I didn’t blend
Half of a person hoping I still have my soul
Half of a person tripping every time they gasp at the differences in what we know
Crumbling at their feet
The mountain is gone there’s only debris
No more words coming out of my mouth
Blaming it on my upbringing from the south
Wishing we were all just misted tones
To me words always hurt more than broken bones
Only half of myself when I lie on the floor
Craving a vacuum to suck out the dirt I’ve worn
That other half of me sits waiting for a letter of acceptance
For proof that I am one to be reckoned
Waiting waiting waiting
I know how to read and write
I want something to love that doesn’t bite
Growing up hurts but stretching might make me less uptight
Chasing dreams or running from the past?
Walking around four limbs in casts
My thoughts sure do run fast
I’ve been molded to my own fear
For years
Judging could be a comfort
An excuse to not tumble
Take off this blindfold please
No one cares about the seed in your teeth
Were your insides always this parched?
feels like there’s no place to park
I’ll forget about that other half soon
Find the door

Celebrating Shabbat Alone

She lives in a palace of glass
Surrounded by the reflections of her past
She lives in a room full of friends
That turn strangers when grief comes in
Her parents wanted her to grow up and go
Learn how to make a new place a home
But when her world comes crashing in
Her circle doesn’t know how to mend
Do they just come from different ends ?

They don’t know what it’s like to have lost
All that you love to a monstrous cost
Maybe they read about it in school
Or traveled and gave history a view
Like wearing a hundred layers in summers’ heat
Burning up but the zipper won’t let
Underneath the coat lies her true tether
But they can’t see, they come from different weather

Sara Grace Smith is an aspiring writer from Nashville, Tennessee. Sara works full time as an ICU nurse in Washington. When she isn’t working as a nurse or writing poetry, she can be found at a yoga class or spending time with her five in their 1880s home. Still working on establishing herself as a writer, Sara mainly focuses her efforts on poetry but hopes to one day create a fiction series.

Image: PhotoCave, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Share this


Four Poems by Kristin W. Davis

Dandelion on the Lawn little roar against shorn green. Blemishes—to pry outby their stems, bouquets of bright defiance. No, my father taught me, you wedgethe trowel down,...

War is the Best Con Ever Designed by James Huneycutt

War is the Best Con Ever Designed War is the best con ever designeddrafted by the only shyster we can’t bribe,a contract Death drafted that...

Four Poems by Brandon Douglas

In this special edition of The Mid-Atlantic Review, we celebrate the publication of Brandon Douglas' new book, Dipped in Cerulean. Brandon is the 2023...

Recent articles

More like this


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here