Comments, Questions, Answers.

 

My problem is anger.

My mind is foggy.

My plans have changed.

My thoughts are a mess.

 

I want to tell somebody.

I want security.

I want freedom.

I want less stress.

 

Can I not have freedom?

Can I not have a choice?

Can I “not have stress”?

Can I not be old enough?

 

Will my family understand?

Will my friends see through me?

Will my wishes come true?

Will my real self show and not get judged?

 

I can’t have freedom.

I am far too young.

My family doesn’t understand.

My friends do see through me.

 

My real self can’t show,

People would judge.

No wishes come true,

Maybe that’s why we dream.

climbing among the weeds on a hot summer day

home isn’t much of a place to grow up

there’s nothing but dust

nothing but rude people and heat,

and the cold wind that howls in the winter

the tumbleweeds on the highway, the coyotes in the streets

i didn’t grow up in home

but i became who i am there

i became who i am scrambling over black porous rock

driving under the sights of the sky

horizon to horizon

wide and open

i became who i am among the scraggling weeds

the dry bushes

the thorny knots

in wide concrete ditches

that were never full

in baking pavement streets

because there

there is nothing to distract you from yourself

there is nothing

to keep you from facing yourself

other than perhaps

the momentary occupation

of seeking

shade