A poem a day for 2013 - day 187 - Downward Facing Dog

When I stretch my arms
Out all the way
I can touch so many days before
So many days not come

Randy C. was the tallest boy in my class
He had big eyes and full lips
I was afraid to think boys were cute back then
Fifth grade
Ms. M's class
She was mean and wore eyeliner and Dittos
Years later Randy went off to war
And died

I don't know why my fingers feel Randy C. when I reach
But they do

But this body must stretch and pull
It needs water and grab

I feel tomorrow
When we look back and remember
How blind we were to see so many faults in each other
In ourselves
How we wasted our days pouring acid on skin
Fire on tongues
I feel it
With all my fingers
I do

There is code for the kind of hate we suck like candy
Like stolen peppermint in the front of the church
We are afraid to swallow all this fear we hold in our teeth
Me too
I am afraid with you

I see it
I feel it
We will regret all this hate
All this lesson and dark we pass to our children

There is good in the world
All this simple so everyday simple good

One night I had a dream I sat with Randy C. on the top of a hill
He was handsome in his uniform
Those same big eyes
Those full lips
He was a beautiful man
Who died because human beings could not sit next to each other and talk

We are fooling ourselves
With how much we think we've grown

Randy C. will tell you different
He was there
Far in my touch to tomorrow

Randy can see us from the top of the hill
We talk about Trayvon
We talk about the day after the Zimmerman trial

We are both afraid
We are holding on
To the good we know so
Is