When We Are Little We Know

We know to rise and sing and dance 

when the music comes on the radio.

We run because our little legs tell us 

that joy and thrills and giggling 

are all found on the inside of a hoola hoop in motion.

We cannot sit on the bench of life 

and wait 

or be patient 

or be quiet 

or be lonely

even when our bones are broken 

and our feelings hurt.

We have to jump and wiggle 

and race and explore 

and peek and whisper 

and laugh!

We want to meet them

those other kids

to make friends 

to belong 

and to share in the fun.

When we are little, 

the big people teach us

how to wrap a rope 

invisible and tight

around all our impulses 

and our desires

to slowly blow the candles out 

on our excitement 

and to silence too many words

because there is 

not enough time 

for having fun. 

We must learn, 

(that’s what they teach us!)

to walk in a line 

to lower voices 

to keep from hugging 

skipping and joking

unless we find the right time 

and the right place

for each of those 

formerly natural things.

Now I am old

and I see the pale of loneliness

I feel the pinch of anger 

and the sting of silence

there is pain in the division 

of those whose music

no longer flows.

I sit here alone 

and I wonder 

if perhaps 

I ought to rise up 

off this bench

run and wiggle 

and jump out of here

to race and explore 

to hug and to smile

to sing and to dance

to return to who I am.