THE GENIUS IN CHILDREN

by Kathleen O’Hara

And maybe it’s only this:
We. Emerging on amphibious legs.
Rising from ponds, shaking off from our skins
weeds and water.
Climbing ashore, and crawling;
swiping the luck of the draw out of hands that
do the dealing
and building from sand, a fiction:
a believable story
where all children grow strong and the land
goes un-plundered,
where a heart
is where the home is, where home is where
we’ll always be. A place on a green earth where we are
never cold, never broken,
where we lie in our stillness, riveted
to our truest feeling
and we pulse with the planets
and we are safe
to walk
alone in the night.

We’ll find ourselves ourselves;
annulled of doubt, saturated in the grace of random goodness.
Our sudden arms muscled with gratitude, we are reaching
for a sunlight
that doesn’t blind us to each other that doesn’t
burn us into cancer, but with
its sturdy brightness
unfolds us into
the strength that we share, enfolds us into
the warmth of belonging.

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