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.