you stare out at the world and ask:
Is this it?
Is this what I was promised?
Is this what my parents struggled for?
what people argue over?
what people die for?
This can’t be it.
This world that fills my vision is not corresponding the one of my dreams
to the one of the stories I have heard since I was young
This broken sobbing planet can’t be the same blue gem set in blackness
I have stared at in photos since I was young.
This can’t be where whales break the surface of an endless ocean
Where birds fly in sun eclipsing numbers
Where trees pierce the sky and ever deeper into bedrock
When I was young staring endlessly at my grandparents encyclopedia set
I was awed by the endless possibilities of this world.
I imagined discovering new lands or a new undiscovered animal.
I imagined a biosphere that wasn’t collapsing
and I remember most vividly the feeling of being a child
of the unbiased eyes that saw through the concrete and brick and dirt and poverty
and smelled the salty ocean on the breeze
lifted my face toward the sun
and daydreamed of the future
Today I stare out the window and see a world double exposed
One is the world of my dreams
from the pages of my grandparents encyclopedia
Where the starling dance in unison above me
Where the moon creates tides with the blood in my veins
Where in the sparkle in my sons eyes I see reflected the world I was promised
The world of my childhood
I can’t stop thinking about that sparkle in Revels eyes
I can’t stop fighting to make that world a reality.
I never want to make false promises to him like so many people did to me
I want him to see the world for what it is
and wine glass fragile
I want him to stare out at the world
and smell the ocean on the breeze
feel the warmth of the sun on his skin
this is the world of his dreams
The World I promised to him