It's fourth grade recess,
I'm standing behind the white chalk lines
drawn onto the asphalt,
watching other kids win.

Some nameless ten-year-old
with curly red hair and shiny black shoes
is telling me about blood—
If it never touches the air
it is blue as the ocean.
I've never seen an ocean
and I believe him anyway.

Years pass,
and I'm still standing
behind someone else’s chalk lines.
I've long since passed biology
graduated from fairy tales,
though sometimes,
late at night
I still imagine blue blood
pumping in my arms,
curling lazily under my fingertips.
I've seen the ocean now
and I know better than to believe anything.

It's years later,
and I'm drawing my own chalk lines
across the mirror over the sink,
staring into myself.
I know better, I do,
but I imagine that my blue eyes
are filled up with blue blood.
If I cry hard enough,
I will stain my cheeks with cobalt
and the chalk will crumble against my face,
leaving stars burnt out and lost
in the sea of blue.

And the whole world will know
that I've seen the ocean,
the whole world will understand
that I bled myself dry.

When it is all gone
puff of smoke, a life with no value
no love, no soul
dust in the wind says Kansas ye?
so when you look at that fancy car
when you smile at night clutching your gold, young Midas
what is it you are seeing might I ask
is it a moment within a moment
the light in your eyes dimmed by materials
and the love in your heart a solitary stone
smooth like glass, as cold as ice in the bitterest winter
what is it you see?
a tiny world, one where there is no pain
but if you saw outside that you would see there is pain
you would see there is no material
and that  love is the most fulfilling when you have it for others
the one constant that lives far beyond a grave
who do we remember most?
the tyrants yes, that is true
who else do we remember though
Bob Marley, John Lennon, Martin Luther King, Gandhi,
so many more
full of love and peace
a fight they had for this love
these messages are an idea stronger than a grave
but your gold, it will not whisper love to you when you leave
your car will rust and decay like your flesh
the beautiful house will become dilapidated and abandoned as so many do
like the house that was your heart when you denied love and chose shiny things
those pretty things bring momentary happiness
but life is a moment
a mere whisper
gone like dust in the wind
what will you remember
what will remember you
most certainly not an idea like paper
it has no thoughts
but love it will remember
an echo for eternity
love

Hope you feel better
Soon darling with Jesus' help
You are a rare gem.

~Hilda~