Number 3: A Poem


For Parkland, and students everywhere


Some days, it can feel like you are too big for your body

and on other days too small

like tiny you is rattling around somewhere near your feet

looking wistfully up at your head

and wondering how in God’s name

you could ever get back up there.


Sometimes it might feel like your arms are too long

You might not remember them being that long before…

Who else has this much arm?


You think you must be flawed.


you must be beautifully, evolutionarily different

with your unquestionably superior reach.


You are in The Middle Years.


The years when you can feel smarter and dumber simultaneously

When you can feel like no one sees you or understands you

Or like the next greatest, best, and most amazing


When you can meet someone and KNOW

that no one will ever understand you this well again


When you live in extremes

Coming home at night and collapsing because

you have just FELT so much.


These are the middle years, the transition years

the years of aching and breaking

of changing and becoming

the years where everything is new

and where everything you do

grows you

alters you

Where you might not be who you were today tomorrow

or one hour from now

or fifteen minutes after that hour.


The years when you feel like you’ve got it all figured out

and are also clinging by one trembling tail feather

to the nest of all that is familiar and comfortable

new wings aching

and also shaking.


You are trying to be an adult

and also to keep your inner child

and also trying not to think to hard about having a child

or worry too much that it won’t ever happen


You try to look like you know

when you haven’t a clue

and to take care of you

when all you want at the grocery store are cookies

and there’s no one to stop you from buying them.


Grow up.    Stay young.    Play.    Be serious.


These are years when you are thinking

or not thinking

or thinking too much

you are dreaming

and dragging and hoping

and trying to hang on to some things

and let other things go

and trying not be scared about all the things that you’re becoming.


These are the middle years, the transition years

the years between child and adult

where you are a blend of oxymorons and impossibilities.


Where you are conscious of being

made of stardust

developed by evolution

created by God

connected to man

defined by your choices, actions, and will

capable of great forgiveness

great fear

great evil

and greatest love.


These are the middle years and they hurt like hell

they change you

they heal you

and also scar you


These are the middle years

And they will form you

So that with your

Hurts And Changes And Scars And Healing

With your Love And Voice And Fear

You will be Here and Loud and Mighty.

Come.    Speak.    Scream.

Sing the song of your Middle Years


We are listening. 



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