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Deciding who to sit with
at the luncheon table finds me
siding up with one who’s sparkling
clean, whose father was a coal miner
that came from a foreign land that had lost
its appetite to feed the ones who longed
for more, the ones who knew
they could crawl up from
dark tombs beneath the earth
to sing in symphony
for their children, and their suppers
become the ones to share how trails
of misfortune led to wins, to poetry and lore
to lure the seated feasters in with
such mouth watering tales of audacity.
We all begin to taste our callings to be free
Since Susan Shea retired as a school psychologist, she has been able to write poetry full-time. In the past year, a little over 100 of her poems have been accepted by publications that include Across the Margin, Ekstasis, Avalon Literary Review, Feminine Collective, Military Experience and the Arts, Triggerfish Critical Review, Invisible City and others. She also enjoys creating rock sculptures, quilting and hiking. Susan has longed to be a poet since third grade, and she is finally able to write every day, as though it’s been waiting for her all of her life. She was raised in New York City, and now lives in a forest in Pennsylvania.