The child dreamed of flight since she could first walk.
She dreamed of stepping not on earth, like the workers--
Not on workers, like the rich ones,
And not on rich ones, like the gods, no.
She dreamed of stepping on nothing.
She looked first to the stars, with a hunger.
She wanted them.
She saw the spacemen with stars in their eyes,
Stars in their pockets--
Stars wherever they wanted them.
She looked at the lack of workers, rich ones, and gods.
She looked at the quiet.
She looked at all the nothing there was to step on.
With her feet on the earth, packed into painful solidity,
She looked at them and ached.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
The child dreamed of flight since she could first walk.
She dreamed of stepping not on earth, like the workers--
Not on workers, like the rich ones,
And not on rich ones, like the gods, no.
She dreamed of stepping on nothing.
She looked first to the stars, with a hunger.
She wanted them.
She saw the spacemen with stars in their eyes,
Stars in their pockets--
Stars wherever they wanted them.
She looked at the lack of workers, rich ones, and gods.
She looked at the quiet.
She looked at all the nothing there was to step on.
With her feet on the earth, packed into painful solidity,
She looked at them and ached.
For my sweet little sister.
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