Meadow

This was a poem that I wrote my first summer at YouthWrite.

I watched as she raised her hand.
Frozen in place,
All I could do was watch.
And then,
I could only wince.
Pain - excruciating.
But not new.
Pain,
Everyday … for nothing.
She raises her fist,
And I close my eyes.
I wish myself to a meadow.
The kind with bunnies that hop,
And birds that chirp.
I pretend that I’m not lying,
In a pool of my blood.
I’m soaring,
Up high in the clouds.
Wings spread.
Content in the afternoon sky.
In my meadow,
It’s easy to pretend my life isn’t horrible.
In my meadow,
I can play with the bunnies.