It Hasn't Washed Away

Poem by Lia Wheeler

Howard Cooper Youth Poetry Contest

When I was four

My mom drove me past here every day on our way to preschool

They never told me

When I was eight

My dad drove me past on weekends on our way to the bakery

And they never told me

Now I find myself looking

Trying to see something I never thought was here

Trying to see through glasses I never thought I’d wear

I’m fourteen and we drive past here on our way to the store

We're always talking

We don’t pay attention

They never told me.

A century’s worth of rain

Has washed the grass clean

So clean the sun shines through

And it has the audacity to look pretty.

And I have the audacity to see it

And after all this time

And all this rain

And all these tears

And after all the people here today

After all the ‘progress’, where are we?

We’ve modernized our horror, sure.

Instead of whips, we carry guns

And I know

There is nothing I can do

Except implore you

To close your eyes and see the blood on the grass

Because no matter how much it rains

It hasn’t washed away

Used with permission.