A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
Sliding heels through the rain-slicked ground,
Halting our race dead in the darkened grass,
We lay in the dirt and suck in the breath that has escaped us.
We don’t care that we lay in mud, sloshing and wet,
Soaking our clothes and coating our skin.
With this air of life strengthening our bones,
Laughter infectious stealing our breath away again,
And the endless heavens above,
We feel clean.
And all the dirt throughout this hill couldn’t wipe the smiles from our faces.
These are the days of the young,
If not in body, in soul.