The sweet grass
Is a lush green
It stands tall, unafraid
Of what is to become of it
The dew of a Saturday
Morning hangs onto the grass,
Hoping, hoping
The grass grows and shortens
Is and isn’t
Knowing of what could be
As it possesses the secrets
Of the world
A lucky thing is a 4 leaf clover,
Something people would like to find,
Brings them luck,
Sometimes joy,
But that is nothing compared to a best friend,
Rarer than a 4 leaf clover a best friend is always there,
A clover shrivels and dies but a friend never does,
A best friend is the luckiest person in the world because they have you,
But you are even more lucky because you have them too,
And they are still people so they have feelings that can be hurt by anyone,
Even you.
We make mistakes that hurt each other and need time to heal,
But as long as they are your best friend they will forgive you eventually,
And you must be careful because while they will normally forgive you,
They can disappear too,
That is why, if you have a best friend,
You are truly the luckiest person in the world,
And why a best friend is even rarer than a 4 leaf clover,
A lifelong bond, from them to you.
I am from
The dusty libraries
That fill the cities
I am from the
Sweet ocean air
That sweeps my hair
As I walk the streets of dawn
I am from my past
My future
My present
I am from warm blankets
Out of the drier
On a cold Saturday morning
I am from the sweet chimes
Of music that fills the air
As the wind brings it
Home
I am from the life
My parents gave me
I am from the swish
Of the trees in the afternoon
Hours
I am from the work and hope
That my family brought
To the world
I am from the hope of my mother
And the determination of my father
I am from laughter and childhood
That is filled with dolls and blankets
And happiness
I am from the forests filled
With green and blue
And yellow and orange
I am from pancakes
Fresh off the stove
And Fireflies that dance
After sunset
I am from the cold
Sand that seeps through
The cracks between my toes
And the soft breeze that dances
Across my cheeks
I am from the joy and peace
That we worked hard to build
I am from warm snuggles
From my parents on a frigid
Soccer field of freshly mown
Grass in the early morn
I am from the soft push
Of my fathers hand behind the swing
As I laugh and swing through the air
Trailing my hands over the wind that
Gently floats through the air
I am from jokes and silliness
And games and family
Movie nights on the floor
With popcorn spilled on our laps
As we shake with laughter
I am from the soft licks
Of a dog
That takes the salty tears
Off my cheeks
Gentle as ever
I am from time and time again
I am from mistakes and success
I am from love and adrenaline
I am from the strong hand of poetry
The expectations in the air
Linger
An ongoing heat that is pushed around
The movement of students is stiff
The teachers are stern
Students learn
But the expectations rise
Like the temperature in the summer
It chokes me and astounds me
The heat is caught in my throat
And the teachers´ voices bounce
In my head
Building up in clumps
The classes are hard
But the curriculum is harder
I breathe through the fog
And struggle to relax
To work
But the teachers push and push
And the kids shove and shove
All of them pushing me to the ground
I am crushed in the movement
As the words and numbers
Stomp on my chest
I try to breathe
To struggle
To learn
But it comes back
As I try to relax
Closing in on me as I scramble
To trap my thoughts
But I´m trapped
And lost
It was a foggy morning
In Champaign
And through the fog
Emerged a glimpse
Of sorrow
Children walked the streets
Unsure of what it was
Sorrow was new
And sad
And scary
Sorrow walked up
To a child
Sorrow poked the child
In the back
The child collapsed and cried
Children swarmed
Tried to get away
But sorrow filled their hearts
Sorrow stabbed their backs
A girl stood on a rainy day
In the dark
She looked sorrow in the face
And said
¨No¨
Sorrow tried harder
But the girl was persistent
¨No¨ she said
Over and over and over
¨You won’t ruin me¨
Sorrow swept away
And disappeared from sight
The city worshiped the girl
But she was modest
One day a small boy asked
¨What is your secret?¨
The girl looked surprised
For she had grown
And was no longer a little girl
She bent down and whispered
In the child’s ear
¨Spirit¨
Tears fall from the face of a child
She looks to her computer
To find a bad score
On the MAP test
She cries and cries
The pain of the failure seeps into her heart
It takes her soul and leads her to a dark place
She calls
Alone
She calls into the darkness
But her voice jumps back to her
She stares at the shadow in her mind
And lays in the cold darkness
She curls into herself and flees to the cold
She cries and cries
As the shadow takes hold
The drip of her tears lands on her lap
And spreads through her body
Taking everything in its path
Her body is darkness and her mind is shadow
She screams in rage and cries of fear
And all the while
She cannot hear
A sound
Thanking and giving
Dancing and singing
I love the feast,
The warm mashed potatoes,
The bread filled with yeast
And made with all doughs
The smell of pumpkin fills the air
As kids sit in a circle and take turns with dares
We sit at a table filled with warm treats
And a delicious feast
We talk and laugh,
Taking our time
Family together,
Loving each other forever
Memories are sweet and unique
They help us understand all we seek
But memories don’t define us
We should never make a fuss
Chances are earned
Useless memories are burned
But thanksgiving reminds us
Of all that we are grateful for
To remember those who fought in the war
Afraid of doing less and instead doing more
I am grateful for my happiness and I stand for those who have less
There it is, there it is
I feel powerless against it
I don’t know what to do
For it is all too new
To understand
It keeps taking, and it’s taking, and it’s taking
Breaking me, taking me
Away to the unknown
Although I feel like a drone
It takes me
Away
It blurs my vision as I understand the mission
Not knowing of the power that seeps into me
Something that I can’t see
But I won’t, I can’t
It pulls me, grabs at me, scratches me
It scares me,
Dares me to push back
I pull and pull
As it takes my soul
Until at last I finally pull free
I am free
And now I can see
I was taken, broken
Feeling like a token
I am breathing
I am seething
Knowing I was the prize
For a criminal in disguise
But I am free at last
And now I can see the past and the outlines
Of what I used to be
I remember the way the night filtered through the canopy above.
The yelping of the other kids shot through the speckled sky with every gust of wind.
The breeze carried our laughter through the air as we pranced our way through the undergrowth.
My heart was brimful and innocent as we chased our way through the woods.
A small game of chase, pure as the bright stars that rippled through the sky above.
Our night, our most wonderful, euphoric night was turned against us.
There were five of us.
Then four.
Then three.
Then two.
And then there were none.
No other children in the woods.
The laughter that carried our path through the night was hushed and small,
A faint memory of what once was.
They were taken.
Far from the woods and our happy little creek, away with their innocence and brimful hearts.
The creek was empty and our nights stayed forever silent.
Pardoned by the haunting cries from the ground beneath.
Our night,
Our most innocent, euphoric night was cut short.
The air was as still as my steps, walking back through those woods, well above the age I was,
Back in those days where we played and cheered, yelped and chased, my heart heavy.
The wind whirled its warning, pushing me back.
The woods were no longer welcoming, its arching trees bent, the leaves stared, watchful.
My ginger steps guided me.
The familiar shouts and mournful cries of parents.
My police badge twinkled under the morning light.
The payment to my friends-their crying parents too-
And maybe to me as well,
For my friends still exist,
But their presence has dwindled.
In our little woods,
The night their souls were taken,
A songlike sound of the emptiness that bound its way down the forest, weaving past the trees,
Sat a tiny little creek.
When our night was taken, so very long ago.
We have hoped and dreamed
That one day our only world
Could finally settle at peace
But still we must suffer
We must hide at the bottom
Of the hill gaining certainty
They don’t see us
We have donations and donations
Of food and water but somehow
For everyone it’s not enough
We have thousands of citizens
That have died due to the enemy’s
Self-centeredness
Do they see us that way?
We fight back just as they did
No weapon can build a wall
To protect them, defenseless
The crime goes both ways
Crossfire shouts its burst
The only question is
Is it a two-way fight
Or is it the first?
Can we be a threat to them
Just as they are to you and me
Would they stay in shooting range and stand up
Or leave and forget their country
We are all the same
We can all be scared
We can all feel the pain and
Grief of losing someone whom we have cared for, deeply
And when the cloud stops
The ticking of our lives
We know we were the ones
Who made the sacrifice