Wednesday, March 7, 2012
SOL #7: One of the Good ol' Days
Like many 17 year-olds I did not realize how many good things were around me. I write this poem capturing my experience as a 17 year-old on this significant day. I have since realized all of the good things about my experience growing up even though I felt so alien in a place called home.
I look around the room -
To see the faces too familiar
The impending freedom from them is intoxicating
The intimate strangers and I gather in a line.
We march in like I've seen so many do before
Some people were sad, I couldn't relate
None of you really know about me
But, someday I will be truly known.
There is a silent anticipation
None of us know what the future holds
I know whatever is coming
Will be better than the last 13 years.
The man at the podium and I want to just get this over with
March them through, give them their certificates
Is it wrong to want to grab mine and run?
Aren't I supposed to feel something besides this new liberation?
We go across the stage one by one
We file out as the cameras click
The weight of the years of pretending melts away
I know I won't have to hide much longer.
As I leave the field, hopes stir inside
I feel the warm presence of new friends still unknown
I anticipate the life experiences that could never happen here
I move toward a kaleidoscope and away from blank paper.