CHARISE SOWELLS
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 POETRY

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Depends on the Forest

Written by Charise Sowells

Published on Poets for Ferguson

It’s a shame everybody complains about Big Brother watching

for if we didn’t behave like children, we wouldn’t require supervision.

Should only thoughtful decisions be made when somebody’s looking on,

it’s the least we can do to monitor from dusk ‘til dawn.

There’s a proverb about a tree falling and nobody hearing it.

What’s happening in the news tells us that we probably wouldn’t believe it.

And even if we did, it’s out of sight, out of mind.

Not my problem.

Why are they whining?

Grow a new tree.

At most people may discuss the quality of the tree:

the life it had, whether it deserved to fall,

the rings of growth, whether it had any at all.

Maybe its leaves hung a little too low.

Its branches were too thick.

Its bark somewhat rough.

Its roots entangled on the surface.

Was it a tree destined for the ground?

Did someone wrongfully knock it down?

It’s only one tree.

If only someone had seen it crash into the earth.

If only someone had felt its weight resonate through the soil.

Maybe then we would understand the recent turmoil.

But instead we polarize all of the elements,

reducing a life to only an instant.

Nothing is ever as black and white as we so desire to make it.

Violence should never beget more violence.

A baby must never be shaken.

But maybe extremes are the only way to elevate the tree’s impression.

Perhaps the reasons behind its demise require more than a heavy sentence.

The world took to the streets to help a fallen tree be heard,

representing a myriad of silenced trees in the woods.

As with any tree, its life may not have been perfect,

but had a different tree fallen in a different forest

rest assured, the world would have heard it.

In These Walls

by Charise Sowells

Daddy left before the sun rose

riding his dreams into the light of dawn

Mama kept it together in front of us

as we said goodbye to him

The front door closed slowly

as if to give both of them

a chance to change their minds

But Daddy wasn't ever going to change his mind

Mama knew that more than any of us

I watched him walk away

as my little sister cried

Mama used every last ounce of strength she had

to shuffle back into the bedroom that was once theirs

I don't even think she bothered to shut the door behind her

because her sobs could be heard loud and clear

We knew it was for the best

He promised he'd be back

Until then, all we would know of him

was the monthly envelope of money he'd send in the mail

All this, so we could have a "better life"

I'm not even sure what that means anymore

Sometimes I think life was better when we were a family

under the same roof

Mama had a spring in her step back then

A reason to get up in the morning

She ain't ever been the same since

Some people say

home is where the heart is

I believe that to be a half truth

It's also where people treat you like you belong

Like you're a person who's capable of something

That's what Daddy was chasing after

He was always certain there was more to this life

than what he had been given

And he was determined

to go out there and take it

Hard as it's been missing him

I am proud of Daddy for going out on a limb for us

Sacrificing everything he knew

Mama says he works two full time jobs

and lives in an apartment with other men like him

Meanwhile, we're reaping the rewards

living in a new house he designed from afar

building a new life for us, beam by beam

If only he could see it

Daddy may be in another country physically

but his heart is still here

with us

in these walls

And whether here or there,

I know we'll be together again some day

Parallels

by Charise Sowells

Published on Deepak Chopra's site

America the beautiful

built on blood and tears

we claim to own this stolen land

denying up and down

most of our ancestors were immigrants once

by force or of their own volition

many of them were chasing a dream

of something more

pushing people from their homes

laying claim to that which can never truly belong

to anyone

they made a melting pot

where some get burned

and others rise to the occasion

all they wanted was what they deserved, they said

a place to make a name for themselves

to be remembered how they wanted to be perceived

to spread their seed

and live freely

safely

without persecution

where they had the opportunity to grow

and write their own history