hope don't move fast, but it don't quit either

she told us to pray God would give us a better life than what we got. that He’d restore her health — three Hail Marys a day was all it took.

the days were long and we grew up slow, like weeds twisting around a stop sign pole.
green and stubborn, growing between the cracks in the concrete.
asphalt burning hot in the heat —
crabgrass and chickweed.

we reached up like the sun owed us something, and we slapped it every time.

laughing, whooping —

i bet our fingerprints are still on that damn stop sign.

our bikes were beat to hell — chains rusted.
dirt caked under our nails.

we knew who cheated on who,
who got caught,
which moms cried in their car —
which dads never came home.
left their kids to rot.
who drank themselves to sleep every night,
who stayed out
watching the dark cuz the silence felt right.

barefoot and bucktoothed,
to this day i still got a gap in my teeth.

we all do.

we learned how to spit, how to lie,
how to keep secrets and oaths till the day we died.
how to get angry long before we ever cried.

since the day we took our first breaths and let out that newborn wail,
the world was bound to pay for its betrayal —
defiance beating in our hearts like a birthright.

break the mold, color outside of the lines.
too dumb to think anyways, it’s better if you just don’t try.

or so we thought.

we went to grandmas.
she talked to us like we were smart,
made us feel important.
said we were better than what we were.
she had a Mother Mary statue in her yard.

took us to church and taught us about Jesus —
taught us about suffering for what you believe in.

“love the Lord with all your heart.”
we didn’t know what that kind of love looked like.

she told us to pray God would give us a better life than what we got. that He’d restore her health — three Hail Mary’s a day was all it took.

ask Him for anything and if it’s in His will He’ll do it.

we asked for a chance.

for hope.

she’s moved on now,
her soul spread its wings and flew away.

past the pearly gates, straight into heaven.
every now and then my sister lights a cigarette like she would’ve.
we don’t say anything, just sit in the smoke for a while.

them things’ll kill you, you know.

i bet that statue is still in her yard,
and that wind chime still sings when the wind blows
like the harmonies played in heaven,
but there’s no one there to hear it no more.

we keep making finger guns,
closing our right eye,
shooting bullets in the dark.

haven’t hit it yet,
but we’re close —
hope burns like fire

and you’d best believe it leaves a mark.

some day that shot’ll hit —
knock the red right off of it,

scare it white.

laughing and hollering,
whooping —

that’s the trailer park way of life.

thank you for reading.
your time is priceless — worth more than any coin,
but if you’d like to support the mind
that wrote this