It’s hard to blind
when you aren’t made
of the sun.
Born brown, before I knew
what brown was, I soon found
out, learned what I could be.
I learned to love the yellow glow
of sand, wide-spreading over
my past — my dad
born in Jerusalem,
kept out of the city
by yellowed walls,
left with yellow sand
that stained his skin
and hardened it.
Yellow sand that stings
my eyes when I think
about his past, that clouds
the air, that buries like a shroud
his history and keeps it warm,
alive. There’s something of him
in me — I see it like a ghost
sometimes when
there are
no words;
then
I’m broken open
like the earth in flower,
& suddenly I breathe
new air, I glow,
I shine like light.
About the Creator
Andrew Calis
Andrew is a poet, father, teacher, and drummer. His first book of poetry, Pilgrimages, came out in 2020.
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