Jalecia Reid

Grade: 9

Hathaway Brown School

Instructor: Elizabeth Armstrong

Feet

Poetry

Feet

Wide are my feet
My shoes strain against the width while the others simply squeeze.
I have my mothers feet and she has her mothers feet too.
"Box-shaped", "Flat", "Funny-looking" are the words that have been used to describe my feet.
My feet carry the miles my mother and grandmother walked.
From Brooklyn to the Bronx and from the Bronx to East Cleveland, from East Cleveland to South Euclid and from South Euclid to Lyndhurst and back home.
My feet tell a story, one of victory and one of despair.
The cold concrete with cigarette butts that lay to the side have met my feet.
Congratulated them with scrapes, bruises, and scabs.
Have scraped off neon pink nail polish and skin.
The ground has seen me all.
My feet bear the weight of the world and still walk and run.
They slap the ground when I reach out for the prize.
The prize that changes so often.
The prize that sometimes changes when touched.
My feet always carry me home to the place where both good and bad memories lie.
My feet say all the words I wish I could have.

A Generational Mistake

Poetry

A Generational Mistake

The first man to ever make me cry was my Father.
The first man to ever make my Mother cry was her Father.
The first man to make my Grandmother cry was her Father.
Someone wise once told me never let a man see you cry but no matter how much I tried and begged, my Father was always the only man to make me cry.
No matter how much my mother tried her Father was always able to make her cry.
It's so easy for Fathers to abandon their children but why is it so hard for daughters to abandon their Fathers?
No matter how old we get we'll always be chasing after a man who never wanted us in the first place; a man who just doesn't care.
"You'll always be daddy's little girl" feels like a lie most days.
"You'll always be daddy's second choice" feels like the truth most days.
A woman will try her hardest to be a man's first choice but in reality she'll always be the second.
Isn't it funny? When we were little we ran to our dads out of joy but now we run out of desperation.
I am my Mothers child; always looking for her Father but he's nowhere to be found.
My Mother is her Mothers child; always looking for her Father but he's nowhere to be found.
That is the curse of the women in my family.
'Strong', 'Independent', 'Ambitious', I always wanted those qualities instilled in me because my parents taught me but I never thought they would come from being built up and torn down by my own father.
Sometimes I wonder if fathers actually feel that paternal instinct for their daughters let alone if they keep it as time passes?
I often think of what my life would be like if my father was different; if he wasn't a liar, coward, cheat, abrasive, and self-centered. I think I would've liked my dad a little more.
I wish my mother didn't let her love blind her.
I wish my mother was a little stronger.
I wish I was a little stronger but all I seem to be is my Father's daughter.
At my best, all I am is a mere reflection of the daughters upon daughters abandoned by their fathers.

I wish I was a little stronger but all I seem to be is my Father's daughter.
All I'll ever be is my Fathers daughter.

Cycle

Poetry

Cycle

You're my canvas. Can't you see? The colors black and blue make you beautiful.
Stop crying, I am only like this because of how I was raised.
I won't do it again. I'll fix it. I won't hurt you anymore.
You make me angry. Why can't you just listen? I only want the best for you.
You're so unappreciative. I do everything for you. Have you ever thought of how I feel?
It's not that bad.
You're fine.
You can't leave me.
I made you.
Are you forgetting what we had? Things are just tough right now.
I promise it'll be just like it was before.
I'll continue to hurt you over and over again and you'll continue to stay.
That's just how we work.
I don't change, you should know this by now.