The following is an identity poem that I had to write for a equity-based grad class last month.
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I am
a young girl
in a small town,
reading stories to escape.
the daughter of a plumber
and an insurance agent,
the intelligent
and uneducated.
simples.
the teen listening to the
heartbeat
of the Mississippi,
knowing that there must be
more
than this worn-down empty
town.
the girl with friends
whose problems cannot be
cut away
or drank away
no matter how hard they
try.
the do-gooder
who spends her free time
volunteering,
bolstering the resume for
college,
and hoping people know
they are worth more
than they credit
themselves.
the bright-eyed
and terrified young woman
who moved to a city for
college,
overwhelmed in education
and new rules,
seemingly a million miles
away
from her small town roots.
the vowels in these voices
reach out and hang in the
air,
while home voices’ vowels
warm up
and float out,
welcoming and friendly.
the student balancing
between two worlds,
clicking the miniscule
puzzle pieces
into place,
trying to make out the
bigger picture
of the stress and
uncertainty.
the young know-it-all
director
leading a staff of
students,
adults, and teens in
Arkansas,
another small town
home away from home.
trying to make a
difference,
but maybe just breaking
things.
the new teacher
putting the pieces
together
from past life to past
life,
making sense of this
calling.
intoxicated with
potential,
hoping for the hopeless,
sanding down
tough layers,
until they see,
wondering if it will
ever be enough.
the young adult,
reading stories to escape,
refueling dreams,
pushing onward.
