“Not the Best Traveler” by Whitney Collins

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On Sunday
Down by the thin brown water
Where the mile-high sycamores
Are full of whiskered nests
And the great blue herons
Come in slow and low
Like pteranodons
I watched my children
In the creekbed
Dwarfed by nature
And I offered up a petition
To that great force
Who shows disdain through solar flares
And grace through milkweed pods
And who may or may not be
In the business of fate

And I said
Please
Please
PLEASE
Let these children
Know health
And happiness
And humor

And should they be humiliated
Let it be a humiliation by their own doing
Instead of by another
And let that humiliation soften their eyes for the world
And lessen their pride in themselves

And also let them find someone they love
And also something they love to do
And also help them make this world a better place

And may this planet feel like their home
Instead of a place they must learn how to live in
Over and over again

And the great force said back
Please
Please
PLEASE
Shut up

Do you not see your children looking up
At the great blue herons
And the whiskered nests
Holding creek clams in their hands?

Do you not notice that not once
Have they asked for the iPad
Or complained of wet socks
Or whined to be somewhere else besides here?

Please, woman
In the same way
Your children ask of you
ARE WE THERE YET?
You ask of me

So please
I beg you
Close your mouth
And open your eyes
And quit kicking the back of my seat

-Whitney Collins

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