Image/Sophie Dalton

Image/Sophie Dalton

Editor’s Note: The following featured poetry is written by 15-year-old Sophie Dalton from New York, USA.

Bubbie wore blouses 
The color of the sea 
And used her hands to 
tend to her plants 
that were green 
sculpting clay into naked figures of women 
making pottery 

using her hands to
love the people around her 
w a fiery passion that only she could have 
that fought for you in the dark 
even when her demons were pulling her left and right 
she was not a perfect women 
there were always cracks in her pottery 
or a dead plant in her garden 
but she always faced to the tunes 
of her life 
till there was nothing left to give 
and when a disease came and took her too soon 
mama wept 
for now she would have to see her babies grow up 
without her

so mama took her life and put it back together 
for she had babies to raise 
And kids were pulling at her heels 

i wish sometimes you were here with me 
To see the women I could be 
while waves crash and tides turn 
the days become longer
i grow older and older
soon I’ll be too big for this tiny house
too dumb to see everything in front of me
But oh how I hope 
that you will forever make the moon rise and fall 
for me