When we were young we ran bare feet. 
Fear had not yet found purchase in our vulnerable toes. 
Swollen from summer sun, wiggling in sand and salt. 
The world bigger — in size and opportunity. 
It offered more than it took.

When we were young I watched Laura find hate before she should. 
An unknown anger at the different of this world — focused in one large glob of spit, rubbed on the bike seat. 
Unfamiliar pain and regret filling the cracks as I grew.
Having witnessed and only understanding later.  

When we were young we didn’t say what we shouldn’t.
We listened and loved. 
We didn’t know words could kill. 
Gather a crowd and move them angrily. 
Whisper under breath and spread — flames of consonants and vowels. 

Now I watch my young and think of the things yet unlearned.
The hate and anger to come. 
The hurt and confusion offered ahead. 

But also the love.
That is here now. And was there then.
When we were young.