day eleven, wall seventeen:
a stack of irreplaceable bills,
nonrefundable reservations
scraping at my dream
(everything i can’t give,
everything i can’t take back)

will it be worth it,
will they open their eyes wider
upon breathing Mediterranean air,
or will the burdens bearing down
on mama and daddy
be heavier than sea-level breath?

if i could slide down the mountains
right down into the sea
and shed myself of my
nonrefundable reservations,
would i be free enough to see the beauty
behind the walls i must still face?