When I die, I will miss
A woman’s long hair in the wind,
Not a timeless thing, but a thing
Without concern for time,
The way Rome always reminds
Of Greece, and Greece reminds
Of salt air and vines.

844

Spring is the Period
Express from God.
Among the other seasons
Himself abide,

But during March and April
None stir abroad
Without a cordial interview
With God.

A young girl wondered why there was so much hate
She hadn't known it till her family moved one day
To another town in another state
There the people were different
She didn't think much of it
But the other kids didn't see it that way.

Friends weren't easily made
And she learned to be without
It made her stronger in many ways.
As she grew older she heard many things
She began to question herself more.
She made friends with a few like her
Those who didn't belong.

She wondered why there is so much hate
She never understood when people asked where she was from
Her answer was always the same,
A few hours away.
It never stopped the questions or guesses
East Indian one said followed by Iraqi,
Jewish, Moroccan or perhaps the Philippines.
She would smile and say her family came a while ago,
It made her think she wasn't home.
Race never existed until she moved to this place
Where they were only familiar with their own names.

She's older now, not a girl anymore.
She saw some old friends one day,
Did you hear so and so was told to leave?
She nodded and said yes.
Perhaps it's because they were religious.
Lucky we were born here,
We'll never deal with such things. Said her friend.
No we won't she agreed.

She wondered why there is so much hate,
Too much ignorance she realized one day.
When another friend came and said,
Our old friends have gone away,
She nodded and said perhaps they'll come back some day
This land of immigrants has lost its way.

shattered.
my heart is shattered

i love you
and i know you love me
but i dont feel loved

how can i know that this is good
when my tears and mascara
stain my face
and my pillowcase
for the third night in a row?