I question it
I do not know
If it’s not the truth
I should let it go
I question it
I do not know
If it’s not the truth
I should let it go
The dead trees cried to me once
It is cold here
Help me—too big to have a shelter, too attached to my roots to move
The cold winters took away my loyal leaves
Left me with naked branches, lonely
Cover me…help me
But I didn’t hear them; I was too cold to pay attention
(By me, written March 2010)
There is music in my head
Ringing old words I have never read
Voices that say…
I remember when I was maybe eleven.I had to wake up as early as seven, rush to the neighborhood baker. He made our street smelled like heaven. The fresh bread gives me warmth on my morning walk. And a lady sitting in the street, selling something to eat. Breakfast routine that I love to remember. Memories of early December.
Among the nothingness I stand
Not a woman, not a man
Unidentifiable, as their definitions stand
They led me behind a broken barn
They showed me all the things they have done
Creatures that looked like smoke
Fireworks
Bright
Making a day out of that night
13 year old
I did not mind
Invade or liberate
That must be a freedom sound
Adults crying
Dad asking me to get inside
But I wanted to see it
I no longer wanted to hide