Pax Romani

image from pinterest.colm

 Pax Romani

“Wildflower, pick up your pretty little head. It will get

easier, your dreams are not dead.”

--Nikki Rowe

I grew up like a gypsy child in and around Seattle;

always in motion. We moved ten times in six years,

so I attended ten elementary schools. I was

isolated, an outsider, foot loose, anxious and

hungry for recognition, substantiation, and

attention. Always the new kid, a permanent

resident of the front row, becoming fiercely

competitive.

These were urban schools, four stories, noisy,

crowded with hardwood hallways and the smells

of decades prior. Sometimes, reading about

pioneer one room schools, I would fantasize about

being in one, all the grades together in one room,

one teacher, and a pot bellied stove. Yet I do not

regret my chaotic energetic education, for it

molded me into a Type-A individual, and prepared

me for an uncertain future.

Crow on a window

sill, one room abandoned school;

in spray paint, “Love Hurts”. 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub