For All The Kids Who Were Told They'd Never Make It... and Believed This
By: Alex Rayne

He was made
of sweetgrass chewed
up and spit out,
stamped on and stuck
to the bottoms of work boots,
until slowly ground off
the heel of his maker.

She was made from crumbs,
swept off the floor,
the bits and pieces left over
from grubby hands ripping
old bread apart.

They had a child
on accident.
An accident:

A child made of flour spilt
in the making of something more–
never a part of the
bigger things–
the things he believed he was meant for.
Instead, swept into the uncleaned sink,
becoming wet, sticky, gross,
until he was washed away
down the pipeline.

Much like his parents,
forgotten,
nothing but the excess
on the outskirts,
a simple thing. He was
nothing much to talk about,
nothing much to think about,

Just a component,
a piece,
a part
of something bigger
that would grow without him,
that didn’t need him.

People will praise
the bread as it rises,
and forget about the flour
spilt
and washed away.

A flower
who had no opportunity
​to bloom.

Poetry

Author Alex Rayne wrote: "I grew up in a rural area where English class was more about telling kids to stop saying 'ain't' than showing us what language could do. This poem is for all of the kids left behind in an education system that never showed them their potential." ​