I Was a Teen-Age Poet

0 Comments | Insight on the News, Dec 27, 1999 | by Akiemi Glenn

Below is an award-winning poem from Voice of Youth Advocates magazine.

   This is a poem to my father
   who once let me bury him in the sand in
   San Diego, whose slim torso and bulky arms
   have carried me in all my dozing bulk
   to bed and whose fingers have
   taught me to move with thought
   one space at a time
   and to consider every possibility,
   every responsibility
   as if the world were quartered and re-quartered
   into squares of black and white,
   as if I were the queen with infinite potential,
   as if you were my knight,
   I took for granted
   amenities like life, popcorn, and liberty,
   and Saturdays and sun,
   because when I needed to be safe
   you were there.
   I thought you knew
   you were colossal and constant
   as you stood at the top of the stair
   as you botched the braiding of my knotty hair,
   but I learned the hard way, hard like granite,
   that we, even you, are temporary, and I know
   anything can be killed
   after a while,
   even the father of a child
   who needs him.
   So, I write this for you,
   my father,
   whom I buried for the last time this July.

-- Akiemi Glenn, 17, Fredericksburg, Va.