Why do you tear the pages
of my history books?
Cherry picking
But they taste sour
They’ve been left on the tree
Too long
Why do you cut and paste
a picture you
want me to see?
Something’s off
The edges don’t line up
Why do you tear the pages
of my history books?
The past is a self-portrait
but you can’t paint it
and it’s too late
to white it out
The holes you’ve made
with your pencil pressure
They’re tearing
Like a careless child eager to cover up its mistakes
What have you done?
I can hardly read anymore
You can try to hide
the things
you don’t want us
to see
But if history repeats itself
you’ve scratched
the record
and no one can agree
on how the song goes
I’d like to dance to it again
I want to cheer and sing along
You want me to
But I also want to cry
at the sad parts
Scream
at the mistakes
I want to remember the past
so more of the tears are
bittersweet
and loving
Ann Richards School for Young Women Leaders
8