“Growing Pains” by A.L. Michaelson
Growing Pains
It's been said before that all kids spend their time
Wishing that they were so much older,
That adults tell them to slow it down,
Don't rush the aging process
Or they'll regret the precious time they spent wishing-
Time they wasted wishing,
When it was already happening
Since they took their first, shaking breath.
“I want to be older”-
As if those words could stitch a future
Already perfectly planned out
And right for them,
Like it would be that simple.
They don't know about growing pains.
It's not just the uncomfortable way
That tissue-paper flesh stretches precariously
Around metal-floss sinew and rubber-band ligaments,
All wrapped around bones of salt.
Who even built us from salt
In the first place?
Who placed the fresh, black air in our lungs
And the bittersweet tonic of life
Into our forms
When we were already existing?
I can't even begin to tell the children why
All those people tell them
Not to spend their time wishing they were
Older
They don't know about growing pains.
They don't know about the vice of age around the heart
Or the twist of heartbreak.
They don't know about bones of salt,
And wire-wrapped muscle.
They don't know about the water they’ll waste-
The way they’ll dry themselves out,
So no one who sees will be able to deny
What growing has done to them.
They don't know about growing pains, yet.
They don't know that they will come to understand
A certain kind of torture,
The slow, slow way to kill yourself-
Growing.
Children don't know about growing pains,
Until they grow. And they learn pain.
Then they start wishing
That they could take it all back,
And they try to tell some other fool
Not to wish for something
That they know absolutely nothing
About.
It just won't ever work.
They will always say
“I wish I was older”.
Call it human nature,
But it's more primeval than that.
It's humans who mirror flowers,
With their intrinsic desire
To reach for the sun,
Despite being covered in dirt.
Humans still always have the desire
To grow
Despite
The growing pains.
About A.L. Michaelson
She/Her/Hers
A. L. Michaelson whittles away the hours of the night writing, after spending busy days in Colorado either teaching or volunteering at a non-profit. For a long while, Michaelson feared the greatest piece of writing she would ever produce was a unicorn story when she was seven. Luckily, she might not have peaked just yet. Michaelson is thrilled to have the opportunity to share her voice- a voice that analyzes the past and pulls lessons, sometimes warnings, from it. Along with working on poetry, Michaelson has a novel she is finishing. In her very spare time, she enjoys hiking and working with animals.