Childhood

June 3, 2010
By Lady_Dove BRONZE, Jacksonville, Florida
Lady_Dove BRONZE, Jacksonville, Florida
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I like to sing. I like to play.
I like to wile away the day
with hours of dolls
crouched on hours of games.

Should I be plagued by shames,
If I sometimes coat myself with muck
And run screaming through the house’s halls,
leaving the mud as it falls.

Mother-Ma’am, she blames and scolds
That I’m to old to be young
and to young to be old.

But, if that’s so, what can I be,
If Mother-Ma’am says I can’t be me.

I am the lion and I am the lamb.
I am the wind and the screen door it slams.
I am all existence. I may even be God.
Either that or just his lightning rod.

“But I don’t know yet,” I tell Mother-Ma’am.

“Do not regret that you don’t have a plan,”
She whispers to me, my Mother-Ma’am.
“You may not no yet, but you’re gonna find out.
You’re gonna be great, I don’t have one doubt.”


The author's comments:
Being something of a wild-child, my impressions of the future growing up were often vague and fanciful. Every time an adult would tell me my dreams were unrealistic a little part of me would die inside. I felt like the world was constantly trying to make me feel ashamed of my fantasies. I felt as if everyone wanted me to just except my life's inevitable unexceptional-ness. Going of to college in an art major that is routinely scoffed at by the grown-ups around me, I find myself forcing myself to believe. I step back to when I was four years old and the only option was success. I tell myself I will be great.

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