A poem for you
High School Reality
I want to cry.
I want to cry for the class clown who starves
at home while his mother gets her hair done
for the twins that received their mother’s
blood stained shoes after she was smooshed by
a car on Valentine’s Day
for one of the twins, who feared their mother
was going to hell for what she did on earth,
“Ms. Brown, she was an alcoholic.”
I want to cry for the quiet student who knows her
mother was placed in an insane asylum
for the senior who wrote his own obituary two
weeks before he was killed after graduation
for his baby brother’s mental health as he watched
his friend’s sport RIP shirts all over school
for the good kid-gone bad- and his struggle
to turn it all around.
I want to cry for the students who grieve in class
over a murdered 15 year old classmate
for the heirlooms of racism that some parents
pass down to their children
I want to pray.
I want to pray for the angry young man that
fights others to hide his pacemaker
for the sixteen year old girl whose father is
a crack addict and mother with AIDS
for her courage to cleanse the stereotype
of a “crack baby”
I pray for the parents that kill themselves
to avoid losing another child
for the fifteen year old mother who passes
her sonogram around class-
oblivious to the added challenges of her
tender future
I pray for the child that knows “ghetto”
is a state of mind and the difference between
Medicaid and Carefirst
I pray for the gang member that wants to get out
but does not know how
for the young man that lives in a seven
bedroom house and wants the streets to accept him
I pray for the teacher’s fortitude to serve
the community for they make a difference
even when the “thank yous” are scarce
and the demands are high
keep treading on
your purpose is to help, encourage, and give hope
on the darkest day
Your role is to be there.
- Yvonne Brown 2007
I want to cry for the class clown who starves
at home while his mother gets her hair done
for the twins that received their mother’s
blood stained shoes after she was smooshed by
a car on Valentine’s Day
for one of the twins, who feared their mother
was going to hell for what she did on earth,
“Ms. Brown, she was an alcoholic.”
I want to cry for the quiet student who knows her
mother was placed in an insane asylum
for the senior who wrote his own obituary two
weeks before he was killed after graduation
for his baby brother’s mental health as he watched
his friend’s sport RIP shirts all over school
for the good kid-gone bad- and his struggle
to turn it all around.
I want to cry for the students who grieve in class
over a murdered 15 year old classmate
for the heirlooms of racism that some parents
pass down to their children
I want to pray.
I want to pray for the angry young man that
fights others to hide his pacemaker
for the sixteen year old girl whose father is
a crack addict and mother with AIDS
for her courage to cleanse the stereotype
of a “crack baby”
I pray for the parents that kill themselves
to avoid losing another child
for the fifteen year old mother who passes
her sonogram around class-
oblivious to the added challenges of her
tender future
I pray for the child that knows “ghetto”
is a state of mind and the difference between
Medicaid and Carefirst
I pray for the gang member that wants to get out
but does not know how
for the young man that lives in a seven
bedroom house and wants the streets to accept him
I pray for the teacher’s fortitude to serve
the community for they make a difference
even when the “thank yous” are scarce
and the demands are high
keep treading on
your purpose is to help, encourage, and give hope
on the darkest day
Your role is to be there.
- Yvonne Brown 2007
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