The Great Dam

A child's love and pride is the most brittle thing you could ever hurt.

There's a creek behind my house

just before a bike path

that cackles in the summer

and sleeps in the winter.

That's where I wanted to skip

and examine animal prints

and collect a pile of sticks

to build the Great Dam.

I knelt into the bank

and muddied my little hands,

digging into the soil

for the rocks to hold it up.

It wasn't enough, so I turned

and reached for a stick.

It felt heavier then than now,

its bark mostly gone,

almost naked to the root,

but it was just enough

to hold the Great Dam.

I spent the afternoon building

and planning in the grass

until the sun began to doze

and my stomach gurgled.

I returned a week later to resume

and it somehow survived.

I began jumping over it in glee.

My foot knocked a stick over,

but I cautiously moved it back.

It was a brittle thing of beauty

and I felt victorious.

I placed my hands on my hips

and let out a sigh of fatigue.

There was a familiar sound

of birds and breath,

the kind that chirp in your chest

after a hard day's work.

I jumped over the Great Dam

just one more time

and felt the collision bend me

as the Great Dam scattered.

I dusted off my knee

which was scraped and bleeding,

but saw my creation,

my young pride and love,

spreading in the water shakily.

It was too brittle to withstand it

and under the Great Pressure,

the Great Dam was no more.

I did not cry like the child I was,

but I sniffled one back.

I picked up the pieces,

still wet and broken apart,

and instead built a house

near the bank where it was dry

and the grass was sturdy

and built it high until the sun doze.

I wiped my knees,

the blood now dried and dirty,

and returned years later

to find the house still standing.

Author's Note

Different from the rest of my poems, but still portrays an important message and still talks about childhood.

Reviews

[Onlyme]

I like this it's fun how we hold childhood memories close to our heart and soul. Particularly the ones with meaning and it seems to define us as we grow up. And reflect on our past. And things we did as a child. When the time comes, We return to those said places. The memories come flooding back. Like you with the dam building and broke and you moved it and rebuilt it. Like life, you try to, try again. Till it eventually works properly. You take the good with the bad. And instead of dwell on the bad. You pick yourself up and dust yourself down and move forward not back. like you did as a child with your dam building.