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Literature Text
I can float on the wind
yet still feel
the grass beneath my feet.
I can touch a butterfly’s wing
and listen to its heartbeat.
I can laugh,
I can dance,
I can sing.
And at day’s end,
when in that shadow,
I can shine light.
I can send my heart
to the top of the highest mountain.
And then, as time is no longer linear
it releases me,
to swim in oceans
and find unexplored islands
and gaze upwards and around
to watch the world, as it began
then died,
then began again.
I can see newborn stars
bursting
with the glory of their creation.
I can see microcosms within macrocosms
and colours undreamed of.
I can hear music of the spheres
and almost taste its sublime sweetness.
I can see nothing
and yet I see everything.
I was static
But now I know I have grown,
through a million sighs
and rivers of tears,
through pain so intense
it was beautiful.
Through scalding truth
that left me raw
and half-dead.
But then I rose again.
When you said ‘goodbye’
you set me free.
yet still feel
the grass beneath my feet.
I can touch a butterfly’s wing
and listen to its heartbeat.
I can laugh,
I can dance,
I can sing.
And at day’s end,
when in that shadow,
I can shine light.
I can send my heart
to the top of the highest mountain.
And then, as time is no longer linear
it releases me,
to swim in oceans
and find unexplored islands
and gaze upwards and around
to watch the world, as it began
then died,
then began again.
I can see newborn stars
bursting
with the glory of their creation.
I can see microcosms within macrocosms
and colours undreamed of.
I can hear music of the spheres
and almost taste its sublime sweetness.
I can see nothing
and yet I see everything.
I was static
But now I know I have grown,
through a million sighs
and rivers of tears,
through pain so intense
it was beautiful.
Through scalding truth
that left me raw
and half-dead.
But then I rose again.
When you said ‘goodbye’
you set me free.
Literature
how to raise a broken kid
i.
i was born in the eye of a raging hurricane
in the night where all the rivers
turned the water into tears---
there was pain and there was rain
and muffled whispers to my ears
from that day i recognize
the face and color
of my fears
ii.
let them claim me
let them drain me
till my last droplet of hope
let them crucify me hollow
through a kid's kaleidoscope
let them dress me with their sins
and their outdated type of skins
let them paint me with their colors
and pretend i didn't see
iii.
in the corner of the room
broken bones on broken bed
paint is dripping down the walls—
fading colors under red
i can't breathe and i can't
Literature
Taking Attendance
I’m a trainee teacher in an “underprivileged” area, and every Friday, I go to sit in a refurbished conference room just off of the campus of the school, walled in by hedges and new plaster, with fascia windows that point skyward so we can let in the sunlight but not see the suburbs surrounding the building. The children we teach all live within two miles; so do the majority of the city’s drug dealers, bookmakers offices and launderettes.
But our view is Bright Blue, not Broken Britain.
Every Friday we sit in this room, and we talk about ‘things affecting kids nowadays’. It’s usually from an angle of
Literature
Blood Mother
I love you in your inexistence
rabbit’s ear
baby’s breath
you are dust
but you are
mine.
Misadventures and
dew drop mornings
small curls
large eyes
my bones cannot knit your future.
Sunsets and moonbeams
sleep burdens our eyes
your soft lips sigh
there is a better world for you
than this.
-D.E.M
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This is wonderful