Jan 2012
I was always moving from place to place
there were new faces and empty houses
leaving before we got too comfortable
in one place, we always had each other though
so there was never any need for a
real home.
My sisters and I would climb mountains
stealing pomegranates from our teacher’s yard
and sitting on the dusty rocks
everything was good because we were on
top of the
world
In every new neighborhood I would see
all the girls and boys in different groups
they found it strange that I would wrestle
instead of play with dolls
and that’s what we did; we wrestled until
black eyes were handed out like
sweet
candy.
No matter where we were we always
made our way to grandma’s house for Christmas
keeping traditions and breathing in that loving
air, I wanted the world to stop and wait
they always sang out for God while I whispered
where are
you?
The swings were my friends when I
was in school and I would spend a lifetime
on them, looking at the sky as if I could
just fly away and never come back
in those days I was a dreamer because I saw that
a world was contained
on those swings.
I guess you could say writing found me
these smudge-filled hands still ink stained
and the words spilling out on the paper
turning shaky abc’s into emotions with
names and colors and witty come-backs
because nothing else sounds and feels
quite as
good.
there were new faces and empty houses
leaving before we got too comfortable
in one place, we always had each other though
so there was never any need for a
real home.
My sisters and I would climb mountains
stealing pomegranates from our teacher’s yard
and sitting on the dusty rocks
everything was good because we were on
top of the
world
In every new neighborhood I would see
all the girls and boys in different groups
they found it strange that I would wrestle
instead of play with dolls
and that’s what we did; we wrestled until
black eyes were handed out like
sweet
candy.
No matter where we were we always
made our way to grandma’s house for Christmas
keeping traditions and breathing in that loving
air, I wanted the world to stop and wait
they always sang out for God while I whispered
where are
you?
The swings were my friends when I
was in school and I would spend a lifetime
on them, looking at the sky as if I could
just fly away and never come back
in those days I was a dreamer because I saw that
a world was contained
on those swings.
I guess you could say writing found me
these smudge-filled hands still ink stained
and the words spilling out on the paper
turning shaky abc’s into emotions with
names and colors and witty come-backs
because nothing else sounds and feels
quite as
good.
