DISTANT SHORES

     —after Anne Sexton’s Her Kind

We learned early to dress like the others, 

in order to blend in. But it was a small boat 

and there wasn’t enough room for everyone

if you didn’t fit in, it was a case of sink or swim. 

When the nuns arrived announcing religion, 

their wimples were sails aimed toward distant shores.

Our arms became tall masts, we were identified.

We caught the wind. It was a case of where to begin. 

I was the daydreamer, the chameleon, 

and the easel, my siren call. I painted red skies

because the white page was a hungry void

waiting to be filled, when I couldn’t blend in.

I inhabited a world of my own making, 

to escape the confines of the classroom. 

When the teacher took away my brushes, 

I used my hands, then my blood, I didn’t fit in.

Tall clouds set sail for distant shores.

Even the wind couldn’t hold them in.

10/5 Write On! With Susie Terence

We learned early on to dress like the others, to fit in. It was a small boat and there was not enough room for everyone if you didn’t fit in. It was sink or swim.

When the nuns arrived announcing catechism, their wimples like crisp sails. Our arms were tall masts, and we caught the wind.

I was the daydreamer who didn’t fit in, the easel, my siren call. I’ve painted blue for sky and the white page was a mesmerizing void to be filled.

I inhabited that world where we created our own reality where we could escape the confines of the classroom. When she took away the brushes, I continued to paint with my hands.