We used to build forts and hide beneath blankets
as though thin fabric was enough to block out the world.
We'd stick to the shadows and watch the silhouettes
that walked passed, pretending they didn't notice the fortress,
when truly they saw our attempts to escape reality childish.
They knew of the impossibility, because instead of pillow forts,
they curled into the blankets on their beds and wept,
desperate to escape the world when they
couldn't even escape themselves.
We saw monsters under the bed and banished them
by wielding flashlights, allowing night lights to stand guard
beside our beds, unaware that our solitude fed the monsters,
not fear. They pretended they weren't afraid of the dark only
because they knew of the monsters that thrived in the light.
So when the sun came up, and we felt secure, safe,
the adults would open their eyes and sigh,
wishing they could build a fort
and hide.
© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush
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