A million summers ago I was the youngest son
in a humble home with seven brothers, and it was spring
as long as I could remember.
I sat in the fields by day, grass rustling beneath my feet,
sheep manure stinking about me, my father’s house a point
of pale dust in the distant horizon,
my shepherd’s crook, worn smooth,
a raised serpent the flock trusted.
The strength of my arms were supple and soft as satin
and certainly a thousand flies buzzed on their loud wings
as the winds frolicked together.
I, in my strange young shell, which was not quite a warrior’s yet,
sang the sheep my songs and knew God could really see
the dust and the scorching sun,
lions, slings, giants, pre-destiny.
Chi-Chi Esimai ’08 is a freshman in Wigglesworth.