What has lead you to this moment?
You, pupils dilated under the interrogation light of the moon
You, soaked in questions asked by the unconscious of your mind
You, age seventeen and a year
You will not say eighteen
You will not say nineteen or twenty
Maybe, someday, you will bend to the will of the fifties
But you have seen young visionaries turn fifty when their intact minds are not ready
You have seen them shot down by believing their birthday candles are flare guns
Distressed by the thought that life is as elusive as water running out of their cupped hands
So, seventeen you will stay
Seventeen, when the responsibilities of the law and love keep a careful distance
Seventeen, when every great thing you do is accented by the glitter and confetti of youth
When your accomplishments stand out against the respect you were never given
When risk is not a factor
For nobody was listening to the ideas you presented
They could not hear the ones that would trip over their own feet, failing and falling
They could not hear the gold winged ones lifting off
They were unprepared, unguarded
Taken down by the magnificent underdog that is seventeen
Of course, seventeen is creative, not courageous
It is not willing to own up to the questions that need answering
The ones that pull on the hems of its clothes, begging to know when and why and how
Seventeen stands, feet firmly planted in the roof top’s concrete edge
It thinks of all that has lead it to this moment
Of how it was almost a casualty of a million misguided coincidences
Of how there are more than a trillion one-in-a-million disasters
Of how its guardian angel must be an FBI agent with sixth and seventh senses
Seventeen and one year stands here
gasping at gravity
Looking down
Thinking of why not to jump
Thinking of christmas lights and sleeping late enough that your mom checks in on you, making sure your covers still rise and fall with life
Thinking of music, the songs that take your memories and seal them in photo protection sleeves, saving them from fade and soil until you want to pull them out on a rainy day to listen
Thinking of warmth, of bookstores with the pages like uncracked egg shells, of latte foam mustaches, of new sweaters and old sweaters and running as the sun hugs your calves
Thinking of your best friends, of your family, of every person who you’ve ever looked at and thought
You are beautiful and inspiring and I would be less alive without you
But then again, maybe these are the reasons to jump
Because this roof is only ten feet tall
And there is no concrete beneath here
There is simply starlight and life and water
And you
know how to swim
