The boy I was
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I was the boy who didn’t look adults in the eye
The one who scraped his knee and who was too afraid to cry
Who constantly crunched numbers, calculating his steps
And with each diagnosis
Became increasingly depressed
Unsmiling his unspeaking voice a monotone
I was the boy who lived life alone
I was that boy but, that boy isn’t me
I am the hours and days spent beneath the trees
Learning the wild wisdom of the fields and the streams
I am acorns and cattails I ate off the ground
The deer I’ve tracked
And the feathers I’ve found
I am the one who climbs birches and calls animals brother
Born of the same heavenly father and earth mother
I am what the wind’s whisper taught me to be
I am a savage
And I am free