fuzzy dirty grime of childhood

Poem written during a class at the National Voice Intensive 2011. About Beacon Hill Park, Victoria, B.C. There's a petting zoo there, which is why smelly farm animals are possible as a memory for me. Ha.
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Fuzzy dirty grime of childhood.
Stink of hogs and unwashed goats,
I roam through you and seek feelings to ease me.

Outside of young years I find you no longer,
Like Medusa each touch to a memory of old days, turns the hand cold stone.

Warm wood chips surrounded with abundant green
Bright lights through the leaves of trees and I am as clear as a beam of sun.
Cawing crows and shuffling families,
An old place, a new place, a desire for a place that feels like home.

Desires transpiring in and out of themselves
Green, leafy summers
Soft brown trees wise with age- they know not to splinter curious hands.

Branches of mysterious patterns,
Explorers with tiny hats and even tinier shoes.
Tall people wishing they would be so happy again.


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