Was there ever a day when childhood could bloom?
Overalls, converse and a dewy abandoned lot
I wished to be a free child, wild and with whimsy
The sun just below the horizon
the friendliness of darkness pouring in gently
hair that's escaped the braids that couldn't contain it
and the brownness of the earth on my palms
I dreamt of this childhood as I sat mercilessly through church
Contained, silenced and controlled
There was no childhood for me
No freedom, space or whimsy
I never greeted the evening or the friendly dark
and my hair was always bound by rubber bands and barretts
the palms of my hands carried no traces of brown except that of my own skin
And church was simply a prison and my soul began its longing
for the day when childhood could bloom