homegrown
saturn’s return
returns me to myself
each morning
offers up perspective
with a side of wisdom
and a healthy helping of clarity
a balanced breakfast
to start my day
when I was a kid
life seemed so big
I wanted it all
but had a stomach too small
to carry it
now i’m so starving
full-grown and filled-out
I could feast on every star
and still have room
for the moon
-
at thirteen all I knew
was junk food
hot cheetos, sour candy
bottom-shelf liquor, oregano weed
handfuls of boys
who should’ve came
with a warning label
friends as sweet as
sour patch kids
-
we were all so bitter
at a world we hardly knew yet
now I know it’s not our fault
we were just lost and scared
right at home
rebecca’s room in the trailer park
kristen’s mom passed out on the couch
grace’s pills in her pocket
my dad’s liquor in our backpacks
what it means to grow up
without knowing any better
in a town that swallowed you whole
made you think it was normal
to get calls on a wednesday
softly letting you know
grace passed away
from an overdose
-
for so long I shamed myself
easier to blame inward
than look outward
at the past
I wish I could take her in my arms
that angry little girl
give her a warm hug
fix her an after-school snack
of cut-up fruit and soft voices
show her a glimpse of the future
promise she would get out
and work hard
and love greatly
and feel important
and see more
than dead ends
heat waves
muddy lakes
and fresh graves
-
so I lay it to rest
forgive myself and everyone else
try not to live in absolutes
things come in so many colors
yet it’s so easy
to see in black and white
nowadays i’m not hungry for
low hanging fruit
there’s so much else
to pick from the tree
if only you’re willing to
reach a little higher.
