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Rocks
March 31, 2014
torn sleeve, dirty shirt, ripped pants
point, laugh, walk away
from me, from my words
at me, at my dreams
they will never know
they who point, laugh, walk away
silly, he is, we don’t
understand his language
mutter, sigh, listen
is he…could he…
maybe he’s slow?
shake their heads, shrug
maybe he’s smarter than
all of us?
walks to school
trips over train tracks,
stumbles, falls, Ouch!
branch is a sword
that slices their illusion
dirt clouds in my face,
in my hair, on my hands
rocks in the air
they don’t point, laugh, walk away
© Vanessa R., Marblehead, MA
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