Wishing to be 18
by Brenda Davis Harsham

wishing away
my youth
wishing the days gone
so I can be gone
from a place of
confinement
where I can’t be real
I have to be fake
to pretend no feelings
have no opinion
make no waves
ask for nothing
do my chores
finish my homework
watch the sun set
the snow fly
the rain grizzle
through my window
damping myself into poetry
where my words
can sprout
grow wings
fly away
like me
one day
soon.
Someday,
I will own
a cat.

AUTHOR’S PHOTO CAPTION: Me at 18 holding Mouser the Cat, alas not mine, but not loved the less for belonging to someone else.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Adolescence can be a tough time, an awkward time of waiting to grow up. Books and poetry were a balm to my soul. One dream that didn’t let go of me was…

We are all children together looking for answers,
Cheered by beauty, gymnasts, athletes or dancers.
We look for family, love or a release to our pain,
For food, comfort, or shelter from fear and distain.
We are all alike: blessed by every sunny day, 
Then cast down by ice storms and endless gray.

when grandie v and i

have finished building our indoor winter fairy village

 with jewels and feathers and sparkles, a flower vine swing, love tape, and puff ball beds

it is very important to write about it and invite them to move in tonight. 

—
“when I sound the fairy call, gather here in silent meeting,

chin to knee on the orchard wall, cooled with dew and cherries eating.

merry, merry, take a cherry, mine are sounder, mine are rounder,

mine are sweeter for the eater, when the dews fall, and you’ll be fairies all.”

 -emily dickinson