Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

I hear your tiny fingers shuffle
against the textured walls, trying
to feel for a crack to slide into 
and hide from the fact that you are 
still too small to make big changes.

It is the same
for many, for most, that can not move
mountains or make headway 
and simply decide to sit quietly in
anger and wait for anything 
to cut enough to create an outburst.

I feel your eyes stare into the room
as you smell the candles cast the scent
of vanilla and sulfur into the doorway.
Welling from within, emotions rise
and fall with ears strained and weary bones
ready to stop and sneak back to sleep.

It is different for you
to be without a voice, to be outside
of decision and determination in these matters
of heart and home. This is hard
to be small and quiet in a loud 
and large part of your world.

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