Through the Eyes of the Reckless

Faith Christian-Ferri, Creative Writer

We dance with sunbeams, to songs
no one else can hear.

Brown feet stomp the dirt
even as
blood seeps from our heels.

Wounds don’t ache as badly
when you’re dancing with hands
entwined.

We raise our voices.
Brothers shout, sisters laugh.
Grandma sings, her psalms written
in the lines of her face.
She’s loud and proud,
unapologetic.

The children clap along
one day they will know
the weight of the words they hear.
When the sun hides away, we
tell tales of hope.

The moon shines brightest above
the house that shines like a beacon
calling you home to come and
dance with us.