Picture eight

I remember how we went to school
our buttocks were welcomed by the noisy neighbors—
the engine.
we bounced all through the journey
with no shock absorbers that eased our headaches.
as kids we were allowed to lap ourselves like problems,
even Titus Sardine was learning how to lap
where we were.
we were the stories that lived in silence,
tales that were never told in discomfort,
we were shrapnel of a broken glass
sticking our lives in the prayers of our mothers.
In God we trust to help our wisdom be trees,
be fruits and branches, be havens
for our own kids.

Ruddapoet