Poetry

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I have stepped and walked down concrete and pavement rubbled streets,
Crept cautiously among the stifling crowds of the Goliaths,
Craned my neck up high to the claustrophobic space.
They stood shoulder to shoulder,
Elbow to elbow,
Foot to foot,
Keeping the sky, sun and stars for their own viewing
Selfishly allowing me a sample of blue,
A glimpse of light,
The use of their recycled air.
I was heavy with self-preservation,
Desperately jealous of their prideful stance and advantage of the heat of the sun;
While I, barely ankle high, retched from the searing, hissing steam
Emanating from the cracks below my calloused feet.
Hopelessness, like burning blinders, kept my eyes on their cushioned feet;
Made me double over as my stomach ate itself;
Ears pounding,
My tongue in my mouth like sandpaper...

But had I known what I do now
I wouldn’t have spent my precious seconds,
Minutes,
Hours,
Brooding and stewing in my jealousy,
My mouth watering from fantasies of height and sun.

No. Not now.

Had I known—
I would have simply looked down past my bleeding feet dusted black, past the rubble, And peered deep into the cracks.
I would have noticed the glitter beneath
Of rubies, of diamonds—and all within my reach.

And I would have realized then what I know now:
In the wide spectrum beneath the heights
The giants were jealous of me.

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