[The World’s Roots] 006.

Our imaginations were
parachutes as we hurtled to the ground.
Yet even we knew the sinister beauty
of the thunderstorm,
dreaming of dancing
with the tornado.

[The World’s Roots] 006.

Gone girl

I once believed that I could change the world.
It was fifth grade,
before airplanes struck the twin towers,
before an incredible woman lost her life,
before I had even started to write.

She was poor–
her worn shoes and oversized clothes
told the story her lips never spoke.
Everyone knew, and they
left her on the outside,
as if her brown ratty hair
was her own fault.

I gave her all I knew to give,
sitting beside her and
learning her name,
becoming her friend.

I think I made a difference,
before the bullies taught me to
turn my head,
let them use my brain
and they’d ignore me,
even pretend I was one of them.

That was before my heart knew tragedy
and pen on paper became my escape,
before the innocence of my youth
was lost.

Gone girl

For the child inside

Against the white background.
Your hand moves like that of a cautious artist,
Back and forth with swift, jerky strokes.
They see the carelessness of a child,
But I see the thought and intention
As you draw a dream.
Imagination swims in your eyes,
Melting my heart.
You smile at me,
That smile that is so rare and short-lived,
Untouched by the troubles I too well know.
The colors around me grow brighter,
The sunshine a little lighter,
And the weight bearing on my shoulders dissipates.
I sit down beside you,
Pick up three crayons
And scribble my worries away.

For the child inside

Little Hands

Running through the little bodies
Surrounding you and I.
The doors open and our feet
Pound the ground
Kicking up gravel behind us.
Time moves slowly-

The memories are vivid
And faded in my mind,
Time alters everything.

We’re hiding in the jungle gym
While other children run wild
Playing tag, hide and seek, Cowboys and Indians,
Fast-paced and unconcerned.
Time is precious-

Little hands transformed
To balls of violence,
Separation like a sea
Between then and now.
Time changed us.

Our smiles light the darkened corners
Of our own personal world.
Time is limited-

I remember the days
Of childhood,
When things were simple
And we were innocent.
But as children do,
We grew up.
Time passed.

Time is up.

Little Hands