What If

What if I had been born

somewhere else,

had befriended water

instead of wind,

walked in gentle rain

instead of sudden storms

that scoured cheeks and knotted hair.

What if I had looked out

on nights that resembled days

in a city never dark or silent

instead of the empty prairie

that stretched out in stillness

beneath an unfathomable infinity.

What if I’d spent summers traveling,

instead of curled in corners

with borrowed books,

instead of wandering sandy roads

on my grandparents’ farm,

dreaming of a bigger stage.

Who would I be without

the stern experience of solitude,

without the sense of smallness one takes

from the vastness of the plains,

without the freedom of space

that has whispered to me

its poems.

Credit: Blue Raven