Heart Sleeves

Given to me by a boy some years ago when I was teaching. I’ve had a number of pieces of writing that stayed with me that I kept from both girls and boys. Some of them were a single line of profound beauty and some a little longer. This is one written by a boy who was really more into sports at the time and did everything under the sun to get out of writing until I resorted to an exchange, you write me a poem that’s worthy of praise and we can go out for a game of soccer. It’s this one and another I received from a similarly resistant worker who really made me appreciate the depths beyond a surface view. I wrote back to him and he told me I was bordering on being soppy but he did come in with another poem the next day. I considered it a win.

 Man, Boy?

If I like birds can I speak

If I like flowers can I be true

If I love the colours of a setting sun can I have mates

If I don’t joke about everything will I belong to people

If I cry at the first breath of summer because I love remembering

Am I a boy?

Can you call me man?

Miss, Don’t show anyone my heart.

Man, Boy, Heart.  

Man, boy,

You can.

Man, boy, person,

You are complicated.

Everyone is.

I won’t show anyone yet.

But you will.

With the right people.

One day

At the first breath of Summer

Or in the middle of a sad Spring

When the birds fly

Or rest for a while

When you win in winning

When you win in losing

Or when you lose in winning

Your sleeves will not be empty

Of heart.

Miss.