Eighth Grade

Middle school is the
"Um...yeah..."
Pause in the sentence of
Growing up.

You know too much to be blindly happy,
But not yet enough to blind yourself
Strategically to the fact that you can't
Compel kindness with care,
Or to-do list yourself to perfection,
No matter how many post-its you stick
To the mirror.

If only we could see ourselves with our future eyes,
If only every woman gasping in recognition in the theater
Could reach back through our reminder filled screens
To tell those girls we were to breathe.