Youth

I was a turtle on his back, rocking to my freedom. Set loose in a land of haste, in a world turned to badlands. I crawled to the edge of time and scored the beat of my heart to the tune of the clock. Gears shifting. Arms winding. Patience thinning. I saw myself in every one like me, but they saw no resemblance. They saw only difference. The walls around me changed with the seasons, but my temperature didn’t waver. Instead, I grew into the warmth for twelve months out of the year and was comfortable. But comfort wore like a baggy tee shirt, and I was swimming in ignorance and complacency. When I began to feel the cold, I tied the string of a balloon around my neck and lifted off ground. I floated away as the walls collapsed, no longer having a reason to stand firm. Now I weave in and out of the measure of my symphony, and replay my youth to remind me that no matter how far into the future I make it, it’s never far off behind.


https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/youth/

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Pro-Antagonism

I’ve been an antagonist

towards my favorite people

and even still,

memories of those instances

pour over me, thick and oily,

tough to remove.

I don’t like to be reminded

that I was a child once,

that I sat with legs limp over the edge

of my mother’s bookshelf;

frozen but watching.

It’s the growing process,

I’m told,

and while I’m forgiven,

I can’t seem to release myself

from the threshold

of preadolescent tantrum.

I wasn’t alone,

but that’s not my concern;

don’t these patterns repeat,

and am I conscious enough

to feel them coming on?

Am I mature enough

to slam the brakes

before they fail?

Ruminating

Childhood is brilliant. You’re amazed by the simplest of concepts and able to play pretend so vividly that it’s reality for you. You’re not yet at an age where anything matters for more than a few minutes…no worrying about how you look, why (s)he never called back, deadlines. No anxiety surrounding overwhelming debt, or difficult tests, or which direction your life is headed in. Not a care in the world beyond your imagination. I understand it’s a stage, and one that inevitably ends. But are we really meant to pull a complete 180 and grow into these amoebic, money-hungry robots that live by rote and value the personal lives of others above all else? What happened to the beautiful nature of finding amusement in simplicity? Where has it gone, and is it lost forever?

Ode to my Childhood Home

You stand tall on the knee of the river
The oldest of your kind
A mound of Imperial Red
combined with daft masonry;
You hold together well
nonetheless

Inside you cradle my thousands of memories
Creeks in the floorboards
Crying children
Lipstick smudging
Failing appliances; work orders
Imagination
Verbal arguments
Silent treatments
Grocery bags
Cuts and scrapes
Naps on couches
Love

Tomorrow, I leave you, but
I won’t be going far
Always within arm’s reach
You’re one for the books
My ancestral home:
You’ll forever stand
on the knee of the river