this poem was written by my friend malikya, and once i read it i knew i had to post it on the blog for you to see. in TEOMF, our many contributors spanned from ages 12 to 22. i don't know if it's a coincidence that she highlights these ages in her poem, but if you ask me, it's too good to ignore. you can find malikya posting good pictures and gooder words on her instagram account. but before you check that out, read this. seriously.
At age 17, parks are venues for recreational breakdowns and talks rooted deeper than the trees that grow around instead of lengthy bike rides, At age 12, that were ridden upon harsh trails known to kiss the rubber right off of tires and swims in the creek that were treated like the beach vacations your parents could never afford.
But now the swings sing a rusted tune of oxidation and adolescent hieroglyphics now stain the aging metal playscapes—a perfect display for the neighborhood novels of children during their adolescent adventures.
God how you miss the days when long division was the most of your worries and when you thought the world was as good as gold.
From 12 to 17 and finally at 22 you'll again find yourself on the swing set of any old park: admiring the adolescent artwork and listing to the dissonant tune of oxidation—just looking for reconciliation.
seven. more. days. get. ready. love, jocelyn.