There was a moment
when I realized
the freedom of childhood
was slipping away.

One recess
between classes,
I saw the vibrant pink
wild roses I knew—
the ones that grew
around my home—

twined
through the metal fencing
of the playground.

I wanted to go
around the fence,
to pick a few
for my teacher.

The recess aide yelled
for me to stay away.
No,
I could not leave
the school grounds.

My heart sank
into a strange place
it had never known before.

I can’t just pick
one of the flowers?
I asked.

No.
You can’t leave
the schoolyard,
she said.

As I walked with her,
my hand
now in her hand,
I looked back
at the wild roses,

searching
for the danger
of being
on the outside.

Perhaps that’s why
I don’t see fences
as obstacles
so much as
concepts.