I used to practice riding

My two-wheeled chariot of blue metal 

With flames on either side,

Its rubber handlebars steering me—

And sometimes, my mom pushing me—

Into a concrete world for me to one day ride

On my own.

 

I started training of how to explore this world

On deep gravel around an open green field

With my mom walking behind me,

The gravel crunching beneath the bike’s tires;

Big mistake.

 

This new world came to me

Like a car crash,

My knees, one car;

The gravel, the other. 

 

I met this old world of gravel too many times 

And my knees began to tell the same old stories 

Through cuts and bruises week after week. 

 

My mom taught me to ride and sometimes pushed me 

With the same gentle hands

That fed me, clothed me, and changed my diaper.

 

She still pushes me to explore new things, 

But as I took my life’s training wheels off in high school

And now ride and guide myself freely on this road of college,

I still fall on the gravel again and again, 

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But per my mom’s advice, I always get back up.