Opening my eyes I find myself in a raging current.

My body is thrashed against rocks cutting deep into my skin.

To the left I see I’m not alone…

My mom is with me.

Her body is submerged in the angry water but I see the bruises that cover her face.

I start to panic..

I have to save her.

Looking around I see a branch hanging over the water.

This is my chance..

grabbing my mom I tell her we’re going to leap for it.

She doesn’t listen.

She doesn’t even see me…

She’s too focused on her bruises and the pain they bring.

We miss the branch.

Anger rushes through my body.

Why won’t she let me save her!?

Why isn’t she trying?!

… again and again I’m thrown against the rocks cutting and bruising me all over.

Exhaustion fills my mom and she starts to drown.

Desperation sets in.

I must save her!!

Up ahead I see another opportunity of escape, a section of land that’s lower.

I decide I must throw her against it.

It’s impossible with this raging current but I am desperate.

As I get closer I go over to my mom, grabbing her I don’t even bother arguing I fight against the current and try to save her.

But the current is too strong, I am too weak, and we are pushed on.

My eyes begin to fill over with tears, my mind filling with the realization that I can’t save her.

That acceptance brings a surprising amount of freedom.

But I also can’t stand pain anymore

I must get out. I must breathe.

I search for one more escape.

I will not let another opportunity slip by.

I see another branch.

I give one last glance to my mommy and then I pull myself up and I’m on top, the water dripping from my body, the sun basking my skin warming it up.

My mom goes by, under and gone.

The tears run down my face.

Even as I crawl over to the dry ground they don’t stop it’s not until I lay on my back and feel the sun cover my face and the birds singing that they stop and I realize…

I am safe.

I remember climbing the grades as I watched time in 2X
My youth slipping though my fingers
And suddenly life is harder and you have urges to do bad things
And suddenly you’re not a kid
And suddenly I’ve learned to navigate the walls of my own mind
And now I’m not a kid
And my youth is gone

But now that I’m here,
freedom feels fragile,
and the dreams are quieter
than the fear that found me.

i miss the simple life
in the way we all do.
bringing water
from the well –
the blue one –
at every street corner.
collecting firewood
so the winter stock would last,
toasting bread on the fireplace
brushed with a garlic clove,
and salt.

i remember the signs
in windows,
people selling eggs.
creeping into the barn,
scared of spiders
and chickens,
but still collecting them,
while still warm,
and fresh.

we’d scavenge
at the edge of town –
never allowed,
but we went anyway.
swimming in ***** waters,
slick with chemicals
and gasoline,
we didn’t have allergies
to the world.
just rolled around
in grass and dirt,
not caring
what lay beneath,
or might bite.

once, we let the cat taste
the tomato soup
from my mother’s bowl,
while she was on the loo.
we snickered,
choking on laughter,
watching her savour
every spoonful.
we were partners in crime,
my brother and i.

i even miss the smell
of the old theatre.
its worn-out curtains
heavy with nerves
as we danced,
competed,
recited poems,
pretended to be
one of the great
figures of the past,
and lay on the cold,
hardwood floor,
covered in dust.

i could list
these memories for ages.
what it felt like
to be a child.
weightless.
magical.
curious,
and bright.
i wanted to grow up
too quickly.
when i should
have held on tight.

i am older now (obviously)
and certainly feel it.
i am wiser now (probably)
and certainly feel that too.
however i am still not old or wise
nor do i know how to write a poem (although i now have several years of literature study).
all i know is that the older i get the more insurmountable the future seems
as it unfurls before me, limitless and suffocating.

today i write less than i would like to
as i let the words
slip through my fingers,
as they tend to,
because i'd rather regret not speaking,
marking my silence up to foolishness when i am older,
than say anything at all.

as a kid we can't wait to grow up
we want to explore the world
cause nobody wants to explain with words

afraid to crash you down

so I got to be strong
cause I can't wait this long
I figured it out myself
and found the darkest place
and now need space
cause I’m falling in this phase people call it "youth"

Almost there

now I’m past halfway
3 years holding me back
and every day feels like a trap

the rusty swings sway in the wind,
reminiscing on what once was before she sinned,
the little girl which used to be scared to sit,
scared of falling to the ground, punching back when her body hit,
now that little girl is grown,
she sits on those swings like its a thrown,
because everything is luxury when you're eight,

the rusty swings rest in the sun,
whilst that once little girl runs along,
she brings her friends, or so she thinks,
they sit ,they laugh, until they sink,
until they start to give her betraying stares,
until she realises they never cared,
she then sits alone on the swings,
because everything is hard when you're thirteen,

the rusty swings have been removed now,
all the little children have grown up,
now they just sit in the darkness.
wishing they could go back to sitting on the swings.