A generic teenaged world.
Having not yet seen
the world beyond sheltered eyes.
Mother's arms lay open, harmoniously
and never shift position-
not even for an itch.
She casts innocence.
She bellows for her people.
Mother tucks her tail in if wolves
growl back.
Forgiveness drenches hands.
She gently combs fingers
through my hair after
brushing out what corruption has entangled me into.
I have hardly said much
after sifting through flashcards
and rejecting melatonin-filled nights.
These days,
reflection is tell all.
~Tina Meeks
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