Written by Kelly in 1998. Her first draft; final draft published in Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul III.
CAN THAT BE?
I step outside, what did I hear? I heard the whispers, And the cries of the people’s fear. The loneliness of wisdom, Can that be? The sad, sad sorrow that I see, That is past in the trees, Is it true, can it be real? Can I let them know how I really feel? The things that I have seen, The things that I have felt, The feelings of sorrow That I hope will soon melt. Wherever I looked, Wherever I turned, I see shadows all through the night. I put my head down and said a little prayer, To tell the Lord the sad, sad, sorrow, And the lonely cries that I have heard. After a minute of silence, of wisdom, I looked up slowly, I saw a thing that I have never seen. I saw a light and asked myself can that be? Was it real or was it a dream? I didn’t know but hopefully It will come to me. It was bright and I was scared. I didn’t know what or if I should see. I looked and then it came to me. It was a dream. When I was turning to walk away, I heard a voice.

Written by Kelly in 1998. Her first draft; final draft published in Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul III.

CAN THAT BE?

I step outside, what did I hear?
I heard the whispers,
And the cries of the people’s fear.
The loneliness of wisdom,
Can that be?
The sad, sad sorrow that I see,
That is past in the trees,
Is it true, can it be real?
Can I let them know how I really feel?
The things that I have seen,
The things that I have felt,

The feelings of sorrow
That I hope will soon melt.
Wherever I looked,
Wherever I turned,
I see shadows all through the night.
I put my head down and said a little prayer,
To tell the Lord the sad, sad, sorrow,
And the lonely cries that I have heard.
After a minute of silence, of wisdom,
I looked up slowly,
I saw a thing that I have never seen.

I saw a light and asked myself can that be?
Was it real or was it a dream?
I didn’t know but hopefully It will come to me.
It was bright and I was scared.
I didn’t know what or if I should see.
I looked and then it came to me.
It was a dream.
When I was turning to walk away,
I heard a voice.


Posted on January 6th at 9:36 AM
Tagged as: Kelly Fleming. poem. Columbine. literary creation.
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