“I wish I had never got manic depression. When I was in junior high, I didn’t know what was the matter with me. It was as if I’d died or something.”-Daniel Johnston
Little
by Carmen H Gray
Do you know how much I love you so?
Your sweet black curls and those dimpled cheeks
Thank you for letting me dress you up like the little sister I never had
When you were toddling around me in our innocent years
Thank you for shooting that hurt little dying bird
In our backyard and we both wanted to put it out of its misery
I knew it was hard for you and I saw that tear
And later still, in that 14th year
I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from your mind
Do you know how much I cried?
Do you know how hard I tried?
Do you know how much laughter you gave me, too?
All of the ways you saw the world were new
Thank you for breaking open that elevator door when my baby girl was stuck inside
You didn’t stop to think about the rules of property damage
All you knew was that my little girl was crying and stuck
And you knew how that felt and didn’t give a fuck
About the consumeristic things in this world
You wanted her to be free
Just like I want you to be
Monarca Rising 
One response to “Little”
The stories about shooting the dying bird and getting out of a stuck elevator are illustrative and compelling. I also love the description in this poem (“sweet black curls and those dimpled cheeks”). Connecting the elevator to the addressed person’s mind is powerful.
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