All around me, injustice.
Thick in the air, popping up everywhere,
a dark cloud threatening
to burst.

I am an injustice-gazer.
Watching through my telescope,
I see it. I see the protests, the
conversations, all the talking talking talking
about how wrong this is.
Yes, I watch from afar,
agreeing it's wrong, but
I stay back.
I decide it's not my problem.
I decide it's easier not to speak up.
Easier to accept that I can't change the world
than defy that and change it anyway.
Easier to hide my face during the scary parts of life
than to keep them wide open, full of courage and fire.
Easier to be happy than
make change by being sad.
Easier to separate myself from the injustice
than to connect myself to it all and find that I fit perfectly, because I'm human, too.
We all are.
We all need to care.
But it's easier not to.

But easy isn't how
anyone gets anywhere.
Watching doesn't do any good.
Telescopes aren't worth your money, trust me, I know.
No, they don't do any good, not
any good at all.
Only change does.

It feels like the flowers just came out, 
like the snow just melted,
and the ice crystals disappeared from trees' branches, 
like the mud just came, 
but yet, 
it's all gone already. 

There was no time to go stomp around
in little red rainboots, 
getting your clothes so filthy, 
that you will have to scrub them for hours
before your mom lets them go in the wash. 

There was no time for your little siblings to make mud pies, 
or cover themselves in the wet dirt, 
until they are nothing more than a giggling brown heap. 

No, because spring came and went like that. 

Now the dirt is as dry 
as sand in the desert, 
and the humidity has my hair going in all different directions at once. 

And the heat, heat, heat!
How is it that it is only May, 
and yet it feels like the middle of July? 

But oh well. 

“Adelaide, we need to leave now.”
“No! We have to stay to-”
“I’m sorry, Adelaide. A grown man just punched you in the face, we need to go.”
“But-”
"Your mother is going to boil me alive as it is, if we stay she’ll boil you too.”
“Edwin, I don’t want to go, this is the first time I’ve been to the city, and I’ll probably never get to go again!”
“I’ll take you some other time.”
“Really?”
“Promise. But we have to leave now. Come on.” He took her hand and led through the rambunctious crowd, barely escaping the fists and elbows that were flying about near their heads. Adelaide ran a few steps until she had caught up with Edwin.
“This is horrible,” she whispered, in awe of the sheer anger that had consumed the square. 
“I know.” He squeezed her hand even tighter, staring straight ahead. They continued barreling across the square until they reached a side street. 
“Where…” wheezed Edwin, his hands on his knees.

Moonbeams illuminate the cedar wood floors of the tiny antique shop,
The only source of light in the darkest hour of the night,
When dreamers dream, with only the bitter cold seeping into fatigued bones….
Until the horizon turns orange and gold, and the moon hides its face yet again.
 
A small girl with red cheeks and raven black hair opens the door,
Holding the weathered hand of father, their breaths forming fog in the wintry air,
For in the depths of the tiny shop lay a lone black violin case,
Out of place like a brick among colorful feathers in stark contrast.
 
Once, it was apprized by many, carefully handcrafted with the utmost love and care,
And not a speck of dust dared touch its polished varnish then.
Its warm, rich melodies had sung in many acclaimed concert halls,
Its timeless, haunting beauty connecting the souls of strangers for that one moment,

I have missed so much planned
The days go by and I think I could have 
smiled more
laughed more
but we can't take back our actions
We will live on 
we cannot dwell
in the past 
but we can hope for the future to be better
to get through the world together
Make a change 
Everyone has a great mind and
can conquer the world
just with one action 
one dream
a single touch
I am glad to call you all friends 
Have a good year
and a wonderful summer

Hope
You hope you make it home at night. 
You hope the plane lands, the car slows, and
The guns hold fire.

You hope your children are safe from the universe,
 when the universe doesn’t want them to be. 
You hope the water comes and the fire stops.
You hope us people help the world that we say we care about.
You hope the seagulls get unbound from plastic bags. And the turtles
 don’t drown in this suffocating world.

We hope the leaders of the world don’t cut us and stomp us down,
 like we're the ones that are ruining the world when we’re 
the ones that are trying to fix it.
You’re the ones that vote.
We’re the ones that act.

You hope I speak out, and gather my fellow seeds that are yet to grow up 
but still have a flower that will be strong when you give it light and believe.

Even the bells at my high school seem to long for normalcy. I thought I imagined the familiar chime when I walked past the other day, and strangely enough, the sounds of a lost year persist. They ring announcing to no one when each class would have ended. They eerily echo through an empty school. Marking the things we’ve lost and the time we will never get back.

For the past two months, it’s felt like I’ve been missing out on my own life…

I just want to go to the Moon,
be able to know what they mean when they say, “It's a small world after all!” 
Watch the stars with no noises or distractions.
I would go up at night -
wait -
Who am I kidding?
It’s practically night up there all the time!
Unless… 
you get too close to the Sun!
But we're talking about the Moon!
I’ll fly up in a red rocket ship from NASA and jump down in a heavy astronaut suit and helmet
And I’ll put a flag
right next to the American one saying,
“Hey, aliens! If you know how to read - well you do if you’re reading this - but, go to YWP and check out my POEMS!”