I see a special country come together.
These children county by county
forming their kingdom,
bringing their wilderness
to the shore and grass.
Their eyes like shiny agates
in the wash of the waves.
I came to this place in my youth
where everything was empty.
There was no laughter running there,
small steps balancing each other.
But the land waited.
The wind played songs in my ears.
I was the first of the eternal children,
shedding the chrysalis of my soul
until the others came
from the black roses of the shadows.
Opened their fingers
to hold yellow cactus flowers.
But then,
that’s a dream
as I watch the little ones before me
throwing footballs,
riding bikes,
playing chase with playful monsters
at their heels.
Papa shouts encouragement,
praise,
acts as Safe in their game of tag,
and waits for his soul to shed
its chrysalis again,
to have my innocence and legs
returned to me.