Will my children have stories to tell?
Harrison Norman James Davis
Will my children have stories to tell?
My parents speak of picnics in parks
Walks to the café every Sunday.
You cannot picnic in a parking lot.
You cannot walk to a café from the suburbs.
Will my children have stories to tell?
I tell stories about swimming in lakes
and walking in the woods.
Will that be possible when my hair turns gray?
Will my children have stories to tell?
When My Eyes Burned
Back then my eyes always burned.
Others made it their duty to make sure they burned red.
Words and violence kept me down and my eyes continued to burn.
Then I met you.
Your eyes also appeared to burn
You did not do the same at the others.
my eyes continued to burn.
But not the same.
My eyes burned for a better world.
For those like you
Think of this, think of that
Is there ever a moment of science?
The air is cold and still outside.
Inside a million fiery thoughts all at once
Think of this, think of that.
Words on paper and sound in the air distract for a moment.
Then.
Think of this, think of that.
More painful than the chilly air.
Countless worries torture my mind.
Thinking of this, thinking of that.
Ecosystem
An ecosystem not fitting of its inhabitants.
Tore up and rearranged for the sake of four wheels.
Forgotten are those with only two feet.
Blasted and built upon for the sake of those who arrived later.
Forgotten are those who cultivated the ecosystem.
What was a habitable has been forgotten.
Quick haiku
A Cold breeze of air
Snow fills the top of my shoe
I can’t wait for spring
Snow
I used to look forward to seeing you every year.
Walking to school you were always by my side.
When I was bored, you would play with me.
Nowadays you just feel cold.
You promised you would always be there.
Now when you fall from the sky onto the city streets.
I just wish you would leave.
You are a part of me, I would not be who I am without you.
Now is a time when I need space.
