Maya Hanson (mye3)
I’m too old to call you that.
I’ve learned too much
I’m much too strong
I’m leaving soon
I’ll leave you alone.
I feel guilty.
Each time I call you
The wind brings your ship’s sail
that much closer to mine,
which will only hurt you
when my ship gets too heavy
for you to hold.
My ship will leave the harbor
Set off on its own
And there’s nothing you can do about it.
No matter how many things you forgot to tell me,
you won’t be able to pull me home again forever.
No matter how many boxes you pack my things in,
you’ll still have to keep some of it
as a reminder of me.
No matter how many times you say goodbye before that day,
you’ll still have to say it again.
Sometimes I like to call you that.
It makes me feel
I’m a child,
chasing frogs across the street,
baking muffins on Sunday mornings,
asleep in the backseat on a long day of driving,
tumbling down a hill without looking where I’m going.
But all at the same time
It makes me feel
If I stay
I won’t have to remember my own bedtime,
buy my own groceries,
take my own temperature.
I won’t have to live on my own,
figure out what course my ship is on.
I just want to let it slip away.
I want to give up,
leave my package on a doorstep
and give up on this wretched ship.
I don’t want to take the risk of
heading straight into a storm.
I can return to the time
when the sun shined,
the birds sang,
there was ice cream down the street,
my friends were close enough to walk to their houses,
there were crackers for lunch
and a trampoline in the backyard.
And you were
so close to me.
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Comments about this poem (Remembrance by Maya Hanson (mye3) )
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
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