Green

by Una Zelić 

Calm and rippling, yet fierce and fast. 

Stunningly green. 

If you jump and splash in the wrong current, 

You might get swept away. 

If you swim and wade gently, 

It warms to you.

At first, cold water 

Shocks you, stuns you into stillness, 

But if you are patient, 

Cold water becomes warm. 

And you can splash and jump and glide through it. 

Like playing in a river. 

I come from rowhomes and alleys, 

And brick walls and cement backyards. 

From trees of oak and Osage and chestnut, 

From orange falls and green summers, 

Skin calloused and cut by childish days in the park, 

From chirping robins and skittering squirrels, 

From music on the stoop, 

From rollerblades on the gravel, slicing through crisp morning air. 

Underneath foggy blue, beside lush green 

Is where I come from. 

I live on music.  

Melody slips easily through my fingers. 

Fingers worn and strong, 

From weaving, pressing, 

Practice. 

Hard work. 

I am an 

introvert. 

I find serenity in solitude.  

Power in quiet.  

When I want to, I 

Fade. 

No one notices, yet 

I’m there. Observing. 

Listening. 

When I want to I 

Can YELL, and SHOUT and SCREAM. 

Everyone notices, 

Everyone listens.  

My best friends, 

Two heads full of brown and golden hair. 

Friends like brothers, 

Or brothers like friends. 

Small tussles, they mean nothing, 

They mean nothing, but  

Love.  

Our bond is ten years strong. 

Our bond is like an 

Intricately, tightly braided rope.  

There are some missing parts 

Some tatters and tears and loose strands. 

We stay together. 

Through. 

It. 

All.  

We hold hands during vaccinations, lend blankets when warmth is needed,  

Wipe each other’s tears. 

That is 

Love like no other, 

Between siblings.  

Now, I feel  

Out   of   place. 

EP Strong? Desert? Wolverines? 

This is not where I belong.  

B’more, Bees, Patterson Park, 

Is where I should be.  

Home,  

Where I know the way through the alleys and hallways, branches and leaves, 

By my brick walls, cement backyards, orange falls, green summers, crisp mornings, 

And music on the stoop. 

Newfound friends make me laugh, 

And I find spots of green in this brown. 

But at the end of the day, 

When eyes close and dreams erupt, 

I dream of my 

brick walls, 

cement backyards,  

orange falls,  

green summers,  

Skin calloused and cut by childish days in the park, 

crisp mornings. 

And music on the stoop.