No matter how many times
our mothers told us not to
look into the sun,
we couldn’t resist its radiant beauty.
So we kept on looking,
then shut our eyes tight, and marveled
at the flaming streaks
of red that swam behind our eyelids.
Now we look at friends, acquaintances
just long enough to exchange a quick smile,
Maybe we don’t look at all.
We don’t look into eyes long
enough to notice the color of the iris.
Let alone to notice the soul inside.
To see the tangled mess
of joy, hope, fear, sadness that makes
We are old enough now to know that it is not polite to stare.
You and I, we fell from that old
tree when we were young.
We slipped off that worn
branch after a spring rain,
bruised ourselves all over,
broke an arm.
And the day we got our cast off,
we climbed that tree again.
We weren’t afraid
Now we paint our glass hearts gray,
paint the illusion of a stone
wall. Can’t let anybody see
inside. Can’t let anybody take
what we can’t afford to give.
We are old enough now to know that a broken heart hurts more than a broken arm.
We used to splash in puddles
after a storm.
during a storm.
red rubber boots.
lightning. thunder. gale. no matter.
Splish splash soaked.
Now we schedule our days
hour by hour and minute by minute. If we
have time to sleep at night,
we’re falling short. We promise to call our loved ones
Or the next day. No,
the next. We don’t think we’ll host that party again
We are old enough now to know that time is too valuable to waste
on something so foolish as joy.
Together, we can raise a generation
that’s forgotten how to fall
in love with the world.
A generation numb to heartache
and to beauty.
A generation that holds too tightly
to things that fade too quickly.
We are old enough now to say enough is enough now.
Enough seconds slipping through our fingertips
like wet sand.
We can raise a generation to know the truth
That every heartache holds a glimmer of beauty.
Fall, 2017 Issue