Skip to main content

Scout on Immigration/ It

 It’s a bit dustier here

A lot more orange

Just like the Hollywood movies made it seem

Although, there are fewer men with weapons

Less evil than it looked

Maybe they didn’t want us to know that there was love

In the air

Because when I look at this land

I see rich people

Rich in love

And hope

And humor

And I realize that the problem wasn’t the soil but the people on it

And I see the distance I have from understanding that

Because I have been taught to be selfish

And I have been taught that community is unreliable

But here where the buildings crumble

The Sun is brighter because these people have earned it

When I return, I’m not sure what I have missed

But I am sure it is not the same

I am sure our minds are a bit tighter

A bit less tolerable

And I am sure that they have been mistaken

Because the land isn’t gray

Like it feels

And the land isn’t evil on their screens

As it feels to me

But the soil isn’t the problem

It is me; the one standing on it

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Scout on Cycles/Without Fail

      And so I return, back to the black and white letters and the soft clacking of the keyboard. I return after the rejection of my fragility, knowing now that the escape is temporary. How can I find meaning in this obscure trouble? How can I continue to be angry at the fleeting wind? When all is said in done, I sit in crowded rooms alone and listen to phones ring without an answer. I look around only to count how many people have run from me, mistreated me, and spit on my name. Shallow walls swallow me in whenever I walk, cloudy air consumes my sentences whenever I speak. That pit in my stomach doesn’t leave because it is my soul; broken, abused, self-pitying, and pathetic, but still my soul. It and I long for the day that it will be free to find its purpose. Today, I watched the breeze shuffle through the leaves, and I remembered the days when I would stare up at it and wonder if it was all the same. Every road had trees almost exactly alike, which I learned from...
1 comment
Read more

Scout on Addiction/Smarties

  Candy wrappers slathered onto wooden tables and chip bags’ potent smells wafted through the air and around the stickiness of all the junk food you could ever imagine. No child knew it then, but those chemicals kept them high. Maybe it was on sugar, possibly on one of the countless chemicals under the nutritional information listings with names none of us could read. Either way, it lifted those of us who couldn’t rely on anything else, who kept that smile plastered on our faces from eight to three. A quarter of an hour after that injection, that wrinkling of the wrappers, the crushing of the Smarties, we were free from everything.             We only needed it more the older we got, but eventually, it wasn’t strong enough; we needed something new, something stronger. A few sniffs couldn’t hurt, right? Just like those powdered Smarties, except much more expensive. I almost couldn’t feel myself after it, and all I could rememb...
Post a Comment
Read more