It’s formed by rocks,

Which undergo weathering.

It’s what dunes are made of,

Mounded by the wind.

It’s spread on a beach,

Admired by passersby.

It’s walked on,

With footsteps imprinted onto it.

It houses turtle eggs,

Allowing them to seek solace.

It smooths sea glass,

Rounding edges.

And it drains in an hourglass,

Measuring time.

Are we like sand?

America, the beautiful place of the free.

Where people from everywhere come to see,

to speak and love and create with others.

To live and laugh with our brothers and sisters.

The ICE Age comes testing our strength,

Our bloody history repeating to a length,

Will our bonds tighten with the pain?

Or will they collapse under the strain?

I say, end the ICE age!

When I was a little younger than I am now, 

I went home after school and wrote until bedtime.

That was enough to take me into the stratosphere. 

I'd play in the cloud for hours and hours.

I'd wait under lamp posts made out of adjectives and line breaks.

Calvino's cities were real; I could see them clearer than he could. 

That's not enough anymore.

My imagination gets weaker every day.

I need more - 

To be deconstructed so that I am a pile of words laying on the floor, 

Waiting to be rearranged into something new,

Something more beautiful than what I am now.