Shopping Cart
    items

      ←

      July 14, 2018SnowTobi-Hope Park

      In skis,
      My feet are like
      The metal tines
      Of a two-pronged
      Fork
      Gliding through
      The flour-snow
      Of an Earth-baked mountain
      Of a slope
      Sprayed and
      Splayed
      With sleet.
      In skis,
      My feet
      Wobble.
      I follow a
      Trail,
      A winding ladder
      Without rungs that
      Sprawls from my father’s
      Heels.
      In skis,
      My feet are my eyes,
      For faces are nothing
      When wrapped in cloth and cold,
      And my ears
      Hear
      Only
      White,
      As if I were in the belly of a ghost.

      from 2018 RYPA

      Tobi-Hope Park (age 14)

      Why do you like to write poetry?

      “I want to change the world. It doesn’t have to be big. Maybe I make someone think or feel in a different way. Maybe I change someone’s perception of the world just a little bit. Or maybe I make someone happy. To me, any small thing, any small adjustment, can be change.”

      →