{"id":3220,"date":"2013-10-24T07:30:51","date_gmt":"2013-10-24T11:30:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/njcts.org\/teens4ts\/?p=3220"},"modified":"2013-10-24T07:30:51","modified_gmt":"2013-10-24T11:30:51","slug":"poetry-not-letting-her-go","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/njcts.org\/teens4ts\/poetry-not-letting-her-go\/","title":{"rendered":"Poetry: “Not Letting Her Go”"},"content":{"rendered":"
Hey guys! Here is a new poem I wrote for my poetry class about Tourette’s. The first part of the poem is based on and about when I was holding a young girl’s hand at Camp Twitch and Shout who also had Tourette’s and I felt like I was holding the hand of a younger version of myself. The second part of the poem is based on a video I have of myself ticcing in dance class from when I was little<\/strong><\/a>:<\/p>\n Passing by the gates of the pool her hand was in mine<\/p>\n squirming like a wet fish. <\/p>\n She bounced as she walked,<\/p>\n her bare feet playing games with the freshly<\/p>\n cut grass that smelled like broken avocados<\/p>\n and dusted peanut shells to me.<\/span><\/p>\n She tapped her fingers against my palm like a song<\/p>\n and I held her hand tight so she wouldn\u2019t run.<\/p>\n It was my first time holding a hand so small<\/p>\n a hand so much like my own and<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t want to let her go.<\/p>\n She didn\u2019t know my fear yet.<\/p>\n She didn\u2019t know the fear<\/p>\n burning blue like sulfur flames<\/p>\n pulling air from my lungs,<\/p>\n the fear that suffocates.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t want to let her go.<\/p>\n It would come later, this knowing,<\/p>\n later when she watched the videos<\/p>\n that her mother had filmed of her in dance class<\/p>\n wearing the pink leotard, the black tutu.<\/p>\n Standing in the line with the other girls,<\/p>\n they would be singing and blowing kisses,<\/p>\n spinning in fluid motions like little pink<\/p>\n wind up dolls in painted music boxes<\/p>\n and she would be trying,<\/p>\n trying to be that little pink wind up doll too.<\/p>\n But she would be interrupted,<\/p>\n interrupted by her own eyes that couldn\u2019t help<\/p>\n opening and closing,<\/p>\n opening and closing.<\/p>\n Interrupted by her hands that were no longer<\/p>\n gracefully rising and falling<\/p>\n but instead had found their way up to her face<\/p>\n on their own,<\/p>\n instead were hitting themselves against her cheeks<\/p>\n and her mouth<\/p>\n and her tongue.<\/p>\n She would taste the salt of her hands<\/p>\n unexpectedly.<\/p>\n Her palms would taste sour like grapes<\/p>\n picked off the vine, still small and green.<\/p>\n Her lips would pucker from the taste<\/p>\n and she would wonder<\/p>\n why she couldn\u2019t keep dancing<\/p>\n why she couldn\u2019t be that wind up doll in the music box.<\/p>\n Then her legs would tighten,<\/p>\n she would fall,<\/p>\n unwillingly,<\/p>\n crumple beneath the weight of her moving body<\/p>\n and the other girls, they would look<\/p>\n and she would feel<\/p>\n ashamed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Hey guys! Here is a new poem I wrote for my poetry class about Tourette’s. The first part of the poem is based on and about when I was holding a young girl’s hand at Camp Twitch and Shout who… Continue Reading