Posts Tagged ‘youth’

 

I’ve been listening to this song by Paul Simon (yes, of Simon & Garfunkel) for the past few days.

Maybe it’s the drums, maybe it’s the melody or the lyrics, but it just gets stuck in my head so easily. It sort of sounds like an anthem, as well. An anthem about childhood.

“Why deny the obvious child” that’s inside us all?

 

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Summers is here and the sun bares down.

I could impress upon people the value of rain-

silver fingers drumming, the sky without frown-

but they see it as a pain,

something to avoid. I would dance in it,

but instead I sit

inside and read poetry. When I was young

I would open my mouth to the rain

the way any other child would catch snowflakes on his tongue,

and I would spin for raindrops and drink them in.

Summer people watch the moon wax and wane.

On bright mornings I wince at the sun

and whisper you win.

Where is the crossing

of the stars? Not Here,

as is desired-

Youths wish it’d appear-

 

though- Consequences

be neglected- Outcomes-

rarely what expected,

or what one dreams-

O but if you could see how lonely I am,

for I am young and crave that sickening, sweet,

drink known as pity. And I am lonely;

I house a heart that is heavy with burdens

that many men and women have held before-

but they are new to me, and I state,

once again, I am young, and with youth

comes yet another burden: inexperience.

And Time scrolls on,

motioning not to its Underlings

(who heavily preoccupy themselves

with Trivial things).

Why do I feel like a villain,

for intruding upon the monotony of your life,

for being put in a haze by rush of blood to my skull,

for overexamining my life as one might pour over a road map

because the future extends in so many directions

and it frightens me.

I am a child

thrown into a new world,

a new experience,

unprepared.

Now I’m scared

because you learned my secrets, and you can divulge them;

because I opened myself to you, and you,

while you blame me for overreacting

for holding on even though you do the same

and it’s tearing me apart

because you’re so hypocritical,

and I’m pulling my hair out

and I don’t want to be afraid,

but I don’t know how not to be.

Out

as a candle

dims and breathes its last

dark gray curl of smoke.

Out of the clutter,

the hands of loved ones

not to far off,

the bookshelves standing

like sentinels,

the bedroom walls boarding your body in,

but not your breath,

not your spirit.

You were not afraid.

Fear of death

is for the young people.

You lived long enough, well

enough. It was time

to say goodbye

to it all.

And so you did.