© 2021 by Ireland Rea. All rights reserved
Alone
Lying, thinking, last night
how to find my soul a home
where water is not thirsty,
and bread loaf is not stone,
I came up with one thing
and I don't believe I'm wrong,
that nobody,
but nobody
can make it out here alone.
~Maya Angelou
There’s a book of poems I read in the fifth grade. It was a book I had gotten from the public library and never returned. Of course around this time I didn’t necessarily understand the importance of following those types of rules.
I would go there after school sometimes when I convinced my mom I was doing after school programs, but really I would just hang around the public library. Horrible thing to lie about, but I was safe to a certain sense.
We moved a few hours away
