A storm approaches
to strip me of my childhood.
I can feel it like the tension in a room,
before the exchange of angry words.
No longer are there monsters under the bed
--they have moved inside my head,
that is the new battleground
where I will fight my demons.
There are sleepless nights
but for other reasons.
Afraid I will awake to find,
the window open and my youth gone—
stolen during the night.
The sandcastles I delighted in building
are all washed away.
The tide has left and with it all my childish impressions.
I can feel the sand between my toes,
can now touch the river bed
But I am still struggling to keep my head above the water.
It seems the older I grow,
The emptier the glass becomes.
Imaginary friends
have long since dissipated
into the air from which I conjured them.
But the friends that replaced them
Remain as illusory.
Long since have I lost faith in my father’s invincibility,
and my belief that in this world
I could survive on imagination,
circus acts,
and cotton candy.
Displaced hope in a God that doesn’t care how loud I scream,
I will never get what I want
no matter how many times I say “please”.
Sorry no longer cuts it—
no longer mends
The sting of a harsh word.
“Grow up” your parents chastise.
If only they knew how fast you are.
