Don't Look a Gift Loan in the Mouth


28° 36' 5.6808" N, 77° 35' 46.7772" E

I am anxious.

Scared of the future, scared of failure change.

For the past three years,

I have gone to a college-

where my dad has worked for

over a decade—for free, basically.

We can’t help you,” my parents confirmed

once I told them about my acceptance

into the university I had dreamed about

since high school.

“I know,” came my reply. “I know,

it’s just that I—I have to go there.”

I’ll do it on my own, I had told them.

I had seen enough of my parents’

financial struggles to know

that I couldn’t ever possibly burden them

with mine.

But even now, only halfway through

my first semester here, it’s looking

like I’ll have to skip coming back

in the spring. Maybe altogether.

When does financial aid actually become

            aid? No strings attached?

When am I going to be poor enough

that I will be given an equal chance at

graduating with those fortunate

enough to not have to take out

a single cent on a loan?

I am scared.

Anxious for the future, desperate for change.

This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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