It was 1962, Wichita, Kansas. My Dad surveyed the front yard—a very big front yard, a grim look on his face. "Weeds," he pronounced sullenly, as if our front yard had become the equivalent of a ... [+]
They never told me I was just a little girl
They told me I was a whole
Person caught in life like everyone else
Driven from shore to shore like so much
Flotsam
But flotsam has power, my dear, debris
Piles up like mountains on the seashore and you
You have power for greatness
You are not lost in this wide ocean
It is hard to grasp when you are a
Chubby child’s hands groping for purchase
On slippery waves
Salt-encrusted boards
To build a sand castle out of splinters
But if you look at the wide mountains, my dear
You will see the bones of your ancestors on the slopes.
They told me I was a whole
Person caught in life like everyone else
Driven from shore to shore like so much
Flotsam
But flotsam has power, my dear, debris
Piles up like mountains on the seashore and you
You have power for greatness
You are not lost in this wide ocean
It is hard to grasp when you are a
Chubby child’s hands groping for purchase
On slippery waves
Salt-encrusted boards
To build a sand castle out of splinters
But if you look at the wide mountains, my dear
You will see the bones of your ancestors on the slopes.