old comics and some worry


(Photo credit: The Urbnite)

faded panels of comics that comforted me
when I was eleven
sit between my fingers
not trying to pay attention to the taiko drums
that tend to only want to play when I rest

you wonder
if this is what your parents sipped from
as you slept back then
that the baggage their eyes carry now
was so you didn’t have to pack as much

but still
we travel heavier than we need to
and when I look at the eyes of my mother
and the eyes of my father
there is pride, love and their own fears

that I’ve begun to sip that too-long oolong tea
of worry
and that I have stopped packing light
so I thumb through old comics and constant prayers
hoping that they aren’t right