In a brightly-lit room, I am so excited to see the good things a new year brings.
On the soft window-seat cushions I learn about Greek columns and about self.
An end of the year party brings a book I love and an unnecessary apology.
In an old portable, broken French trips off my tongue.
I take it in and I love it all.
Even when I hate it, it becomes a puzzle to solve, a hill to climb.
I seek higher hills, I seek mountains, I seek Olympus.
This is my birthright, a shining gift delivered to me and to all the babies next door.
There's a revolution in this climb of mine.
Just twenty-five years ago, that gift would not have been mine.
That 'special' class I so eagerly fled would have been my pinnacle.
It's not right.
And so, this journey is no longer a solo one.
Alongside me climb, wheel, crawl the shades of others like me.
Others who are denied this journey now, today,
Others who were denied this journey long ago.
I cannot see you, friends, but I think of you daily.
I must never forget that as I gorge myself on knowledge, others starve for a book.
It's up to me to make sure that I share what I've been given.
Someday, we can all take this for granted.
YOU ARE READING
The Dump
PoetryA place for all the random stanzas that flow through my mind. My life in free verse. I try to write at least one poem a week, so they will be added as they're finished. In the meantime, PLEASE comment. Praise is nice, but constructive criticism help...
