We Are

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I grew up in a pool house
Far away from here

My mother
The maid of the main house
Kept our home spotless
My room always ‘cleaned up’
Me, always furious
Because I liked my junk

Why do we always have to clean?
Why can’t I put posters up?
My teenage self
Mouth full of questions

My friends would ask
Why is your brother dark?
I lied
Said I did not know

How do I explain that my mother was jilted twice?
First by a black man
Her first act of rebellion
Against her snobby white parents
The result, Jamal
We all call him Jay

The Father-Daughter dance
Jay went with me
People whispered
Snickered as we danced past
With head held high, he paid no attention

His father’s gift to him
I suppose
Our mother is no brave woman

Make no mistake
She has her virtues
Her hard-work
Her unconditional love
Her efforts to give us the best

She’s proud now
Of what Jay and I have become
The best gifts she gave
Constant reminder that we are not our fathers
That we could muddle through tough times
That we are who we choose to be
And we are.

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6 thoughts on “We Are

      1. Yes. This is the third time someone made this remark on my work. I always feel like I’m lacking in details enough for prose but end up writing prosaic poems. It is something to work on. Thank You 🙂

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