I can not bear
\nto let my ugly little children
\nbe picked on by bullies.
\nMy struggling little poems
\nhobbling about,
\nlooking into holes
\nand poking at the sky.
\nGathering moss and bark
\nand waving branches in the air.
\nRunning over grass
\nwith feet spreading wings,
\nand waving arms
\nthat embrace the joy of light.<\/p>\n
They speak only to the stones
\nand shadows,
\nsing to dandelions,
\nand say nothing to people,
\nwho parse their sentences
\nand criticize their syllables.
\nThey have a sense
\nbelonging to coasts and bridges,
\nseeing from a distance,
\nfloating above the ground,
\nburied in soil of darkness.
\nBut gentle beyond words,
\nhiding, lest they be taunted
\nand made fun of,
\nand thrown away like imperfect valentines.<\/p>\n
They do the best they can
\nbeing themselves,
\nsaying what they say,
\nand I guard them with my life.
\nProtect them from the critics,
\nwho chased all the poems
\ninside themselves away,
\nand let them drown.
\nFor whom,
\nwe throw garlands on the waves,
\nand all my little poems
\nwave good-bye to them, weeping.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I can not bear to let my ugly little children be picked on by bullies. My struggling little poems hobbling about, looking into holes and…<\/p>\n