Dear Mr. President,


Have you ever been to a quinceañera,

A right of passage, an entrance to the world,

A mass of celebration to coax a woman from a girl,

I have been to a quinceañera, but there was little culture involved,

And the old white man touching palms to his was slightly less evolved.

Because he’d been to a quinceañera,

And now that quinceañera is no more,

Because he’d tooken each last one, though just a boy of 44,

We will all go to a quinceañera,

At some point in our lives,

Are you the kind with dirty hope on your face?

Or the kind with the suit and tie.



        Eidan Silver


This poem is about: 
My country
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741