Why We Fight
Haley A. Sciola
We were breaking dreams
still tracking our visions:
My life began with a blackboard,
which was actually forest green
and made learning mean nausea.
I, a pipsqueak without backbone,
was determined to straighten out
my soft scoliosis and academic deformity.
I fought for my education.
Your life began with green army men,
an explanation of and initiation to war:
good guys kill bad guys together.
You, a little kid with few toys,
were determined to hurry towards glory
and respect for your strength, unnatural drive.
You fought for your country.
As nights flattered us with loneliness,
pain was quick to chime its chains;
our thoughts revolted and lashed us in sleep.
Meanwhile, love, our nemesis, was blind;
neglectful, it ignored our pleas for company
while I ignored the possibility and accepted defeat.
My life began with a blackened heart;
I, just a pipsqueak without backbone,
have hardened, walled away your strength.
Your life began with a feverish dream;
you, a little kid with few toys,
have softened, given up on paradigm.
We don’t know how our strategy changed.
But in my weakest moment you marched
swiftly towards my blockaded chest
and I feared for life that I’d lose you, love.
Our oddities, underestimated bandages
give us a chance to read and overwrite
the wars with our own General bad guys.
We’re not meant to make war alone.
We argue over dinner, press upon the other
the significance of interjections, politics,
and personal projects to improve our guards.
Our nausea still waves, memories still cripple,
mental ideations, our enemies, refuse to retreat;
but we only surrender to our battles with love.
Still tracking our visions
we are breaking dreams.