The boy I was


I was the boy who didn’t look adults in the eye

The one who scraped his knee and who was too afraid to cry

Who constantly crunched numbers, calculating his steps

And with each diagnosis

Became increasingly depressed

Unsmiling his unspeaking voice a monotone

I was the boy who lived life alone


I was that boy but, that boy isn’t me

I am the hours and days spent beneath the trees

Learning the wild wisdom of the fields and the streams


I am acorns and cattails I ate off the ground

The deer I’ve tracked

And the feathers I’ve found

I am the one who climbs birches and calls animals brother

Born of the same heavenly father and earth mother

I am what the wind’s whisper taught me to be

I am a savage

And I am free



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