My Key

Here I am at 9:18 a.m. with a thin musical intelligent frame
The air is cool, warm, and toasty as I walk
On the way to the college streetscape
I drink some black, strong American coffee which wakes me for the day
And cream to add flavor and to quench my thirst to fit
In. The streets look for educated graduates, scholars, or me, educated souls
Are still tired from late night projects, homework and more. It’s
A burden on those who undergo this tedious process, especially on me. I make it
Through it, them, as
The coffee is being sipped on its cold now
Four years almost ago and the man was laughing, smiling educated & telling.
Who would have thought that I’d be here, nothing
Has got in my way, nothing at all, but in fact everything
Every little bit of studies, projects, tests taken has got me in the position that I am in now
Up in the educated land of success, do I feel deserving, nowmore than ever before?
Not that I never believed I deserved it in this small modest coat
eyes penetrating with fear, tears of sadness
& speculation in this confusing time.
Not that its not exciting being at a college bound
eighteen, who was going to have to go, careening into the real world.
So to have to leave & to leave my family, friends, all I can do is imagine so to go.
Not that my college fate, who from very first meeting
I would never & never trade this opportunity for the world. I would never want to go into the world of being unsuccessful I asked for this & so demanded
To my education & who will never leave me, not for misconception, nor procrastination,nor even for those days I feel like giving up which is
Only our human tendency lot & means nothing at all. No not that.
There’s a song, “The Miseducation of Lauren Hill”, but no. I won’t do that
I am determined. When will I die? I will never die. I will live
To be 98, & I will never go away and you will never escape from me who am always & only a future scholar despite this petite frame. Spirit
Who lives only to educate her family and others
I’m only human, & I am strong, & I didn’t come into this world to let anyone down
I came into your life to especially change what your conception is of young black women
That’s what I came here for and it must be done
Excited & apprehensive, complicated fate, nevertheless I made it this far and may go further
The world’s stereotypes are left behind me.

Smiling From Above

March 1993, I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was sitting at my kitchen table eating breakfast on Saturday morning. My mother in an enthusiastic manner, orders my brother to run and wake daddy to come and eat. Five minutes later he ran in and shouts “Papi’s not waking up!” and that’s when it all began.

I am 17 years old and I’m fatherless. I don’t believe that makes me any different from anyone else; I just have one parent. Some might believe that it’s a disadvantage, but I think it just makes me stronger. I can say I have made it through fourteen years of my life without a father. My father died of a bladder infection when I was quite young. I really don’t remember much about him. Being the youngest of three is difficult because my siblings have memories, and I am extremely jealous of that. I am jealous that they have recollections of things that I would never obtain. They can remember little things such as how he looked, how he smelled and the sound of his voice. I see pictures, home videos, and listen to stories other family members tell me. For some reason that is not enough. I want more; I want to be able to wake up one morning and say “I remember”, and for a long time I struggled with this issue. It was hard for me to admit that I did not have the ability to regain all that I felt I needed. I used to sit in my bedroom and wonder: would I be any different if I could remember those things? This is a question I would never acquire the answer to. Children who have lost a parent are often viewed as depressed, irregular, incomplete, but as for me I want to be different.

The hardest part about growing up without a father is all the events that I have missed out on. The list is endless: father-daughter dances, “bring your daughter to work day”, and Father’s Day cards. When I observe fathers with their daughters I still get that empty feeling. I use this emptiness to my advantage so as to gain independence and confidence. This emptiness urges me to do better, to get involved, voice my opinion and not be afraid to admit that I have come a long way. It took a while for me to speak about this openly; with this I have learned that in order to heal I must accept my loss and use it as my gateway to success. By focusing all my emotions into schoolwork, music, and extracurricular activities I believe I can go the distance. I remember clearly when I stood on stage and sang Shania Twain’s “From This Moment” at my aunts wedding. It was beautiful, flowers everywhere and teary-eyed family members. It was like a dream, then suddenly his face came into my mind and I realized I can remember. He is with me everywhere I go and on stage with me when I perform; music is my therapy.

My mother always tells me that although Papi is not able to be here and witness my accomplishments first hand, he is smiling down upon me. Having the ability to look back on my life and say “Yes I’ve done it, I have made my father happy” has always been a long standing dream of mine. I have the ambition to continue to strive for better. I am a class leader, a great friend and loving daughter. I am blessed to have had the opportunity to be raised in the atmosphere of knowing that I must disregard the things that I am missing in order to aim for higher. I can honestly say, “I am not a quitter, and I will work with all my might to have Papi smile down upon me”.