Dear Creator

Make me out of

Sweat and rocks and stains

To reach the stars

 

Give me tools of feathers

Flowers

And sugar

To build a city

 

I will not make your skyscrapers

I was made for cottages

With dusty wooden logs

 

I was made to dig through mud with my hands

I was made to eat too many raspberries

Until pink juice runs down my chin

 

To laugh until breathing hurts

To make love

And like it

 

You made me to wallow on the ground

And if heaven is in the sky

It's your own fault

That you'll never get me up that high

 

 

 

Reviews

[Collette]

Amen, amen, AMEN! I loved the idealism behind this poem. It's got that stick-to-your-ribs kinda goodness that you don't often find around here. There are simple things in life that people often overlook because they are too busy worrying about getting up above.

I was made to dig through mud with my hands
I was made to eat too many raspberries
Until pink juice runs down my chin

I cannot say it enough, AMEN. These lines reminded me of the innocence of a child; they look at the world as if it is their place to explore AND experience. Likewise, I'm honored that you chose to share your experience with us. Nice write.