It was in the 100 degree heat of that Visalia afternoon

that my friend recalled the argument that had taken place just moments before

Where her hands grabbed the throat of her mother

18 years worth of abuse and anger compiled into a split second decision

We walked together down to the park

Both no longer children

 

It was as if we lurched into adulthood

Terrified of being stripped of our innocence

Our imagination

Our childhood whimsy

Fantasies that filled hours of the day and night

Our weak hands clung to them

Poor grips led to empty palms

 

And in that absence we attached any

meaningful feeling, emotion, memory

to whatever was within reach

Feeding into the repetitive narrative

That all we hold dear will be taken away

Only children are foolish enough to hold on

Adults learn how to let go.

 

From adolescence onward we are molded

Shaped and reshaped to fit a specific spot in society

So we rebel

Condemning the system

Tagging the streets

Fighting back

Breaking the rules

Filling our bodies with whatever substance we can find

We had to rebel in every way

Destroying ourselves before others could

To accept death on nobodies terms, but our own.

 

Yet on that day,

when my friend painted the solution of her problems in the sky

A world away from this

From stress

From pain

From sorrow

It seemed no more different than that of

The fantasies she had concocted so many years back

 

We surrendered our dreams of being princesses and superheros

But not our hope

Our hope for a better life

For a better world

 

Resting in the sunbathed grass

We talked about that world

What we wanted to take with us

What we wanted to leave behind

We were grown up

That thought alone terrified us,

But we realized that that world was

So much more feasible because of it.

 

No longer did we lurch into adulthood

We walked towards it

Towards a better world

Painted in the sky.