By Tami Karabin
Little child
with your azure, orphaned
roving eyes
and no one’s straw-blond hair,
those lanky arms
are stronger than you think
and stronger than
they might need to be
to hold tight, clinging
with those white knuckles
as the train “click-clacks”
toward something new.
Beautiful child
with your bare, tender
still-red scar
and a loaded-gun impulse,
those keen eyes
see everything,
see more than
they rightly should
to maintain some sense
of hope or happiness
as civilization “tick-tocks”
toward calamity
Philosopher child
with your new, resolute
crafty ideals
and an acute distrust,
that curious mind
has meandered
has more questions
about how the world works
than ever any answers
and thrives there
as all the people “Amen”
toward discord
Kind child
with your open, gentle
ardent nature
but a shameful cognizance,
that difference you sense
is you,
is the Divine in you
expressing itself,
young for but a moment,
and shines in you
as the Wi-Fi gods hurl us
toward oblivion
Blooming child
with your soft, chromatic
audacious petals
and reaching toward the sky,
the spirit in you
knows we are all one,
knows we are all growing
in extraordinary ways
under the same warming sun
from the same earthen ground
and loves you,
for you’re already a flower
Tami is a graduate of Lynchburg College and works in CVCC’s Writing Center. She enjoys helping students develop as writers. In her free time, she likes to read, write and craft.
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