Skip to main content

The Real World or Not?

When the road splits in a fork,
I stop and wonder.
Which is the right road?

An unknown future lays beyond each road.
We do not know what will harm us what will not.
The art form we are creating,
that comes from the heart
and reflects the pain and sorrow of people's lives,
is delicate and we do not no how much one's choice can effect the world.

There is much to learn,
everyone, everything.
To learn the process of building,
a genuine community.
To connect people to their families,
sustained by meanful work,
to be nurtured by the needed care of each other
and together raise and educate their children.

To be fair,
Everthing is equal.
To be more aware of the community around us.
To care, and help ones in need.
If we all helped each other,
places wouldn't starve.
There would not be as many wars.
Do what is right for you,
 your family, your nieghborhood, your community, your world
and the universe.
We cannot grow strong if we do not live in a place of beauty,
love, joy, safety and peace.

Your heart must believe in what you believe.
That is the way to create our dreams.
And follow it, follow it to what you believe.

5th grade (2009)

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Unburdening

Too many things lie between us, quivering, quaking in darkness like silence, or a laugh being shoved back down your throat. I press my cheek against the top of your head, your hair burning with the fidgeting fingers of the sun, listening to words that have no shape, or sound, or feel, just words that sit like fat potatoes between me and you, words that build up like gum under school desks and surround you. Tendrils, thin wispy letters, dig their way through your skin, overgrown bean plants. Everytime I try to pull one down, they rip at your skin and you cry out. Your silence floats like a feather, suspended below my mouth; when I speak it flutters with the fluctuations of my voice. Too many things hold us at a distance, two lone figures across each other, toes at the edge of a seemingly uncrossable gap. I heave stones into the darkness, my hand tight around yours, placing trust and love and faith and understanding like stepst...

After You

we buried the treasure box together- two dusty heads bobbing in the dirt hands scratching at earth and grime-caked nails, one for one and two for two: forgetting which fingers belonged to me shiny faces watching earnestly as the metal box slowly disappeared- rocks and grit skittering across the surface- you grabbed my hand and I touched the oozing soil around our treasure, the easy product of a six year old girl and boy who swore forever and ever * turning it over so that every scratched scar matches the wrinkles etched in my palms, not a more perfect fit than the way tears mold themselves to the withered lines down  my cheek alone I stand amid fresh laid earth I think to sit and tumble to knees hands catching fingers sinking nails deep- begin to claw through the tears until the treasure box falls deep within the tomb alone, one not two, sweeping dust over the metal lid- crooked back and withered frame time lost but time lost wi...

Daydream

Back of the classroom is a shadowy place, flickering edges and flimsy images- one, two, three, four, gone again. Five, six, seven, eight, fingers digging deeper, harder, tracing angelically- angel’s bruises. Chanting, what you don’t know will never hurt you, what you know stays forever, a lie, a fat, goose plump lie A hundred ways to say NO gather force, while fingers press harshly, rib after rib.