I Hear Poems in Their Lives

I listen to all the rumors, the hanging
facts of the children's lives, and I see
a young boy leaning over a piece of paper,
writing about fighting Pokemon characters,
not mentioning that his father used the belt
on him again last night.

I see two sisters who were born minutes apart,
J. is three feet tall and weighs 30 pounds,
J.A. is four foot five and weighs 120 pounds.
They do not sit next to each other,
say, this is my sister or hold hands.
Their other sister has a different last name,
a different father. She lies to me, tells me
I didn't get a snack, so she can bring one home.
I don't ask her why, hand her the bag.

I see a boy lay his head on a desk
covering his story with his deep breaths.
If I ask him why he's falling asleep, he might say,
I was up playing video games last night.
No one tucked him in,
made sure his teeth were brushed,
saw that he had eight hours of sleep.

I see eight children who do not know
their mothers or fathers, they have
a parent or two in prison,
they are raised by older sisters, brothers,
or sick grandparents.

I see these things and know
that poems are in these children.
I hear their pencils moving like windmills on water,
sending ripples to edges of fields,
learning to fight their dragons every day.

by E. M. Soos

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