Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Coping

She thought she could cope with that
growing up in a multitone town
in the swell of knowing and unknowing
winter eyes taking in raving battles
in faraway places and she heard of
things on fire, passions, words, shrill sounds…
Yet the sun always came up and the sand
danced with the water where she played
as she watched her mother weep, bittersweet,
and for running out of words, she thought to invent
a new life, new words, logic without logic.
It was a war after all.

She thought she could cope with that
the cool breeze on her face
the autumn shadows in a hazy dream
a yellow leaf floating down, a memory of
Mama’s song fragile as the air, music clotting
inside her silenced grief and learned stuff,
voice tones, changing moods, interruptions,
hiding behind what she couldn’t see,
keeping herself in check, grinning to be living
but then, words gushed out of her, blue and gray,
the day she got on a plane and left,
growing up quick in a big splash and coping.
It was a war after all.

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Prompt: a coming of age poem