Concrete

I am from the concrete.

Taught to be smart from books and from the streets.

I am from the Hard Times and the High bills.

 From New England, with snow and icy winds with chills.

I am from the silence and constant compromise.

My Family tree holds the real surprise.

I am from 5 kids, smack right in the middle.

Learned to be grown from the start, no chance to be little.

I was only 10 when I learned what in life was truly real.

The warm eyes and soft faces bacame cold hard steel.

I am from the struggle and endless tears.

From the shaking bottom lip caused by racist jeers.

I am from the stubborn, determined, and unyielding strength.

I am from the unbreakable willpower and well controlled restraint.

I am from the long nights over textbooks and hot stoves.

I am from the warming bottles, diapers, and a mother's woes.

I am from the curl, knotted, black, and frizzy hair.

From the judgmental and calculating stares.

I am from the pillars that hold up a family's foundation. 

From the Hispanic Puerto Ricans to the black Jamaicans.

I am from love, hard work, and faith in God.

And one day, I'll be from awards, success, and well deserved applause.

However, until that dream is finally complete,

I am content with being from the concrete.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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