stardrops - poetry

2 - home

a little girl of seven or eight
crying at the front of the class
a worried teacher leans over the shiny wooden desk and asks,
"what's wrong, sweetie?"
the girl, swallowing, simply says,
"i wanna go home."

home, where she can sink, sighing with contentment,
into a soft bed and cry it all out;
home, where she can laugh at stupid kids tv until her racing heart has calmed down
and so has she;
home, where stress disappears.

an older girl of ten or eleven
eager fingers flying over a keyboard
click, clack, click, clack.
she finds a home in this screen,
with its distracting games
and kindred spirits from all around the world,
who understand why she cried at the front of the class
as a girl of seven or eight.

the girl loses her lunch in the front of the class
a stressed and justifiably angry mother drives over in the middle of work,
and helps her into the dusty maroon car;
the girl, swallowing, simply says,
"i wanna go home."

the car halts by the gray-walled, pretty house
and the girl, tear-stained and exhausted,
with a foul taste lingering in her mouth,
almost sprints toward the computer.

a year, maybe two, maybe three;
a girl's tired ears fill to the brim
with syllable upon syllable of her family's somewhat justifiable hatred;
tears fall onto the keyboard in steady small splashes,
but the hands of kindred spirits reach through a screen,
and pull the corners of her mouth into a sleepy little smile.

for she is home, where she can sink, sighing with contentment,
into a fluffy fic that makes her smile all night;
home, where she can joke around with her best friends until her racing heart has calmed down
and so has she;
home, where stress disappears.

so she cries and she cries when her parents limit her screen time
because they think she's addicted, or obsessed, or depressed
but her computer's the sole reason she's only this stressed.

her family screams their hateful syllables,
her other family is stuck behind a faraway screen;
the girl crumples, like a falling building,
tears splashing on the hardwood floor—
this is the hardwood floor that her socked feet skated figure eights on
in the summer of 2019,
that she and her sister played chess on, and sorry, and scrabble, and jigsaw puzzles—
but the girl,
swallowing—
simply says,

"i wanna go home."