Yellow bricks

  Liana Hanokaee You are my hero, he tells her often when she holds his pinky. When she asks how or why, he says he’ll tell her when she’s older. But heroes beat the bad guys, Fly across the city to untie hostages, Put out fires, Save people from burning buildings, Get people home safe, Make sure people are okay, Protect and Guard… But she hadn’t done any of those things. She was four or five years old. Before bedtime, he reads to her, but this time he wasn’t coming. After calling, “Daddddyyyy!” for a while, she gets out of bed to find him. He’s on the floor crying. She’s young. She doesn’t understand, but she knows he’s in pain. “I’m sorry. I can’t read to you anymore baba” He’s not feeling okay right now, but why does he have to stop reading with her? Time passes and she reads alone, but she is not one of the smart kids who reads all the time. He still tells her, “You are my hero” and she holds his pinky.

  Liana Hanokaee I see your name in the strangest places Street signs and cars you would never know Followed your way like you were Jesus  Praising religion while another formed You didn’t want our business public But love and business are not black and white For you I’d pray on the highest building Asking our God to give the blind some sight Impatience creeps from dust and plain dirt Laughing and crying bring man to life Remember life’s not sleep and vain work Good luck to you and your wife When on the top, everything looks small When you feel big you could lose it all

  Liana Hanokaee Little houses everywhere you see Cars of different colors driving by Many people looking for their key Men of every age they take their tea To work and other places they can sigh Little houses everywhere you see A childhood where they never could be free Not a day goes by where they don’t lie Many of them looking for their key Slaves to egos that they want to feed Never pausing on their way to ask why Little houses everywhere you see Never mind their wives, they play in three Nothing exciting coming home to a wife that’s dry Many people looking for their key What is the value of that little ring If men and dogs are living the same life Little houses everywhere you see Many people looking for their key

  Liana Hanokaee I used to look outside the window pane Not only to see the stars glitter free Thinking till five, I drive myself insane Until my grandma’s spirit comes to me. My pink nail polish chipped, it wasn’t fair But matter served nothing if you weren’t mine When the clock broke, though easily repaired I quit ticking, staring until round nine. Hands float around the dark of the axes  One four leaf clover wishes to be seen What if this green around me is a test? What if a four leaf clover lost a leaf? How will I know if the right one is you? How does one meet the role they ought to do?