When I Grow Up

by Trixie Danielle

Click here to see the performance.

They sat in a circle and played:

When I grow up...

...I want to be runner!

...I want to be an architect!

...I want to be a singer!

...I want to be an archaeologist!

...I want to be a writer!

...I want to have a garden 

full of olive trees and we will sit under the shade, together!!!

It's her 5th birthday

Surprise! 

Confetti of white phosphorous

Raining down on her and her friends

He wanted to run 800 meters;

but now he's running to save his brother, 

in his arms, 

gasping every breath to reach the finish line

but the finish line is long gone.

She wanted to be an architect--

Her first project?

A house for her family 

built with good bones

of resilience, of laughter, of courage

but now, she's designing their tent

to make everyone comfortable.

She wanted to be a singer but now

she's screaming for help under the rubbles.

He wanted to be an archaeologist 

digging fossils, discovering history 

but now he's digging graves 

for his loved ones while history is being written.

He wanted to write novels but now

he is writing his name on his arm

so he can be identified when the day comes.

She wanted a garden but the olive trees--

the olive trees, no leaf spared.

Dreams, dreams are free 

for you and me but it is 

becoming a luxury to them.

Every waking day the death count rises 

is death 

to a thousand dreams 

and a thousand dreamers.

Even if the sandman disappears,

Even all the boogeymen in suits connive,

Hope will survive and very much alive.