You Ask Me About America’s Future by Heather Bruce Satrom

on

|

views

and

comments

You Ask Me About America’s Future

I remember this –
I was a child clutching the string of a green balloon
Shivering next to classmates
On a blustery day in March
Our shaky cursive messages on strings

We set our balloons free
Watching them ride wildly through the air
Our necks craned backwards
As green faded into blue
Hoping someone would find our words

I remember this –
We could grow a garden in the spring
The summer lasted just one season
The rains came in fall – the snow came in winter
There were no hurricanes in western Carolina

I remember this –
We used to look each other in the eyes
And read each other’s faces
We used to talk to strangers – on the bus – on the street
We used to read books printed on paper

You ask me about America’s future
But I want to tell you a story
About the time I knit a sweater
From the yarn that I found
In a basket from your grandmother.

Heather Bruce Satrom teaches English to Speakers of Other Languages at Montgomery College. Her oral history project, “History in the Making: Documenting Stories of Immigrant and Refugee Students,” won the American Association of Community Colleges’ Faculty Innovation Award in 2024. A believer in the healing power of storytelling, Heather writes poetry and creative nonfiction. Her work has appeared in WWPH WritesMaryland Literary ReviewThe Mid-Atlantic Review, and in the anthology America’s Future: Poetry & Prose in Response to Tomorrow.

Image: Ninara from Helsinki, Finland, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Share this
Tags

Must-read

Taffy by Josh Young

Taffy My heart is salt water taffy. Salty, sweet, sticky. Comes in a colorful box often found in the bargain bin of a gift soft...

Four Poems by Azalea Aguilar

Sunday Best he blows dandelions for his babies in the corner store parking lotin their Sunday best, following this morning's sermontheir wishes scatter across the...

God Was Hiding by Daniel Cano

God Was Hiding Faith cannot be held as an old grey handNor as a breath to put voice to prayerIn faith I rendered a final...
spot_img

Recent articles

More like this

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here