9 Years

Silver spoon?

My spoon came out of plastic bags

placed on paper plates, No escape

So I harassed my dad

The words I spoke were hateful

As a youngin’ I was unthankful

For the leg of chicken on the table

And the televisions bearing cable

“What is this stuff?”

Silence could only tell the name

Of the white powder crowded

Inside of the transparent cellophane

Months later, he’s sick

And it seems as if recovery is impossible

To my stomach, I’m sick

As he’s placed on the stretcher to the hospital

“Every little thing’s going to be alright”

Bob Marley to keep my headstrong

My tear ducts are all dried up

There’s no one to depend on

3 AM, but the only thought

Is how much our lives lack time

For this war that he’s always fought

Became the result of the ringing flat line

I can’t believe it, all this constant waiting

Bedside, hands clenched, all this honest praying

Concentrating on an answer but, the response was vacant

Losing the one I looked up to like astonishing constellations

This is where it all began

Facing all of thine fears

Where I had to become a man

At the age of 9 years

The previous poem received third prize in the Words Unlocked Poetry Contest sponsored by the Center for Educational Excellence in Alternative Settings.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s