Purple by Alexis Rotella

In first grade Mrs. Lohr
Said my purple teepee
Wasn’t realistic enough for a tent,
That purple was a color
For people who died,
That my drawing wasn’t
Good enough
To hang with the others.
I walked back to my seat
Counting the swish swish swishes
Of my baggy corduroy trousers.
With a black crayon
Nightfall came
To my purple tent
In the middle
Of an afternoon.

In second grade Mr. Barta
Said draw anything;
He didn’t care what.
I left my paper blank
And when he came around
To my desk
My heart beat like a tom tom.
He touched my head
With his big hand
And in a soft voice said
The snowfall
How clean
And white
And beautiful.

Responding

What are your creative wounds?

How did they happen?

How do you feel about them now?

Sharing

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