Because You Said I Couldn't
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Because you said I couldn’t wear my long hair down.
I stomped into daycare,
Threw my bands on the ground.
And rinsed out all the product in the school water fountain,
You yelled,
I felt for the drips coming down my back,
Counting them.
Strands popping out in all directions,
And your anger had spurted up to the rim.
But at age 3, I couldn’t care less.
I felt like I’d moved a mountain.
Because you said I couldn’t,
I became best friends with a boy,
I snuck over to his house every weekend,
Played with his toys.
I even ate dinner with his family,
And called his parents “Mom” and “Dad”.
And strangely enough,
They didn’t seem to mind that nickname too bad.
Because you said I couldn’t
Be independent all on my own,
Due to a social class
In which I was born to belong,
I worked myself sick behind a register all day long,
Just so at the very end I could say that I proved you wrong,
Because then,
Even if I was bed ridden for several days later,
You and I can now both say that you’re nothing more than a hater,
Because though you see me as a spoiled brat creator,
I’m the debater.
The translator.
The game changer,
And play maker.
And even in that moment,
When I saw your face break,
It was worth every cough and every headache.
Because you said I couldn’t.
Some days, I forgot to eat,
I forgot to eat.
But in the end,
The goal I’m reaching for,
Will be all the compensation I need.
Because I remember,
The years you said I couldn’t,
And I believed you.
I remember how pain
Used to meld into my bones,
Like blood so heavy,
It weighed my head down.
Kept my eyes to the ground.
As if your criticisms could be counted in pounds.
Because I remember.
I remember how it burned
When no one was around,
It’s funny how hard you can cry,
Without making a sound.
And I wasn’t the only one,
I realize that now.
We were all just kids
Waiting to be found.
Waiting for someone
To pick us out of a crowd.
And to make us feel like
We mattered.
And for years when I asked you
To do something
Like that
For me
You would say you couldn’t.
….
Really?
You couldn’t?
All these years
You’ve condemned me
For trying to be things
I couldn’t-
It’s about time you own up
To the things that keep you barred down
In chains,
With only sunlight
Peeking through the cracks,
Like a tease,
And showing you the one thing you can’t reach,
That you can never be depended on
By someone like me.
It’s about time.
And it was at that time,
That I realized I was leaning on a tree,
That had been tilted off its base,
For the last few centuries.
Your branches of cutthroat cut-downs,
No longer get to me.
Because I remember,
I learned to move mountains at age 3.