"America is Like"

Catalina Brennan, 14
New Haven, CT

In the beginning it's like
the first page of a notebook
at the start of the school year.
Fresh,
new,
waiting for a story.

It's like your
little sister's eyes,
innocent and happy,
her tiny hand engulfed
by your painted nails.

It's like your evening stroll
down the road,
which you can take
in the knowledge that
the roadside bombs are not
here.

It's like looking forward to
turning thirteen
and not having to worry,
like you did before,
about the chance
that you will die
because you bear
your husband's son.

It's like the
crazy quilt,
in your new home,
Colors,
beautiful
and ugly,
Shapes,
crosses and crescents.
One more piece being added
by you,
continuing the story.

It's like the library
on the first day
of summer.
Weeks of freedom
in which you can travel
to worlds you never had the
opportunity to dream of.

It's like the cry
of a whippoorwill
and the sight
of the Grand Canyon.

It's like an artist's palette
of colors.
Then a canvas of texture.
Paint,
thickly and thinly
stretched over
the canvas
that was white
like the first page
of a notebook
in the beginning
of the school year,
fresh,
new,
waiting for your
story.

It's the opportunity
to be.

It's like home.

It's like whatever
We the People of the United States
want, wish, and work for.
With a touch of
Mother Earth.

It's like impossible
to write
about all the things
America
means to me
and you