Tuesday, 23 October 2018

Childhood Grasses

by Francesca West

Walking on the childhood grasses, Barefoot and bleeding.
Eyes attracted to a shimmering ocean
Of glass shards, gleaming.
While I’m finding my way in this moment,
I’m dreaming...
I’m picturing myself smiling at the sun, 
Both of us beam proud, we’ve both won.
But without looking up
I only draw on the warmth of high feelings.
While I try to get outside the sounds 
Of others’ screaming.
I am bleeding.
Knowing it’s what we step on that stabs,
But we could never avoid this land we grew up 
Getting to have.

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