Writing

A tree is downed in the forest

It appears as a skeletal hand resting upon the snow covered floor

Brown beneath, like ivory rotting away as it ages 

And pure white on top, bone bleached by the sun.

I sat down to write a poem about politics,

About how our country is tearing itself apart,

About how we’ve tried to glue pieces back together,

About how somehow it’s already been a year.

(This is all a fictional language I created myself called ‘Sacaretan’.

Well.

I'm not really sure what to write about right now.

I've never really published my writing before. 

There are lots of things I could write about. 

Even as we carry the whole world

On our backs, we

Breathe our girlhood through

Whispers and giggles at the lunch table and

Stars brushed across eyelids that have

It started off with two moms, two best friends,
with two young girls with the biggest smiles.
Making handshakes that would last a lifetime,
listening to songs we would sing and dance to,
sharing our laughs and giggles,