I reach to the very tippy top of my toes
To peer out the frosty window
To wallow in the white desert before me
The crumbs of ice and slush and cold are falling
No
Not falling
Crashing
Hard
The pavement is defaced with their anger
And sorrow
The cold bites at the cusp of my nose
Yet I am pulled from the rigid numbness of the war outside
My mother beckons me
“Cocoa is ready!”
And the fireplace welcomes my return
Where it is safe
And free from the intense storm out that window
I am so lucky
The following day
I return to my stoop of observation
And there are children playing
Hopscotch
I am ridden with jealousy as I watch them
Their tiny feet puttering and pattering
amongst the harsh white lines they have etched with chalk
I am consumed by my loneliness
Filled only by my mother
And father
And brother and sister
And a large Labrador with his thick collar
“Bernard” it reads
If I had a collar
It would read “Empty”
As tears drip down my fat cheeks
Onto my satin robe
Falling
No
Not falling
Crashing
Onto the wood and tin and plastic toys surrounding me
With no wood or tin or plastic people to play with them
Not with me
I am so lucky
I retreat from the window
And my satin pillows are filled with sobs and snivels
But I have missed it
A new boy has come to play
He is snuggled tight in his nylon suit
Protecting him from the wind and snow and ice and rain
But not from them
They kick
And yell
Stop
Please stop
They don’t stop
Until the blood pools around his bundled-up head
And face
And hands
But I am no longer in my sill
Watching
No
I am dreaming of hopscotch
I am so lucky
A week later
I return to my post
My eyes are no longer raw
But my surroundings are
Raw
Stung with the mourning and shrieks of fear
Trees are singed with anger
Over money
Race
Gender
Sex
But mostly just that
Just anger
The pavement where those lucky kids played their hopscotch
Now homes puddles
Of blood
And snot
And tears and more blood
The streets are flooded with Fatherless children
And childrenless Fathers
But I still have a father
And a mother
And My Window
I am so lucky
Years later
I visit my window
Where I once watched the children play
And die
But it is hardly a window anymore
Simply a peeling frame
Shards of glass on the floor
I am in it now
I can’t simply watch
And wallow and wail and whine
There is no glass to protect me
I am so lucky
