When I was 8 years old, 

I tried to catch fireflies,

As they flew around,

Illuminating summer evenings.

When I succeeded

I’d cup them in my hands,

Watch them glow, 

Before they would fly away.

One night, 

I was chasing them,

When I heard snickering

A few yards away.

“Freak!”

A neighbor kid yelled, 

“Catching bugs?

What are you - three?” 

I didn’t acknowledge them. 

Their words hurt,

And I wanted to cry

But I was used to it. 

I went back to my fun,

Ignoring the mocking voices

Of the other kids In the neighborhood

Even as they stalked towards me. 

I was snagged

Away from 

The fireflies,

By an older kid. 

She dragged me away,

Throwing me upon

The sidewalk in front of

The other kids. 

I was petrified,

By their cold stares,

And how their words hurt

More than the beating.

I remember, 

Laying there

In the grass

Afterwards. 

I stared at the sky,

And I silently begged God 

To return my childhood,

Or strike me dead.

A firefly, 

Landed on my hand,

And illuminated

The evening darkness.