Benjamin: Two Hundred Tries Later

Benjamin: Two Hundred Tries Later

This is me
In my happy loneliness
Miles traversed
Surrounded
Supported
Forgiven
Forgotten
Remembered for what I've done
And perhaps, maybe,
Just maybe,
Who I am.
Remembered,
But on my own.

Alone at the finish line

And why?

Because adults get married
While children play pretend
Holding the hand of an imaginary friend
Staring across at all that time
On the other side of the finish line

So, who am I?
To stand here alone
As I cross the threshold?
I am the last kid on the playground
The last one to put away the finger paint
The last one to wake up from nap time,
Because dreams will always be better than reality
At least the naive dreams of a child

At least

I am me
And a child
Is who I choose to be

Stepping up to,
But refusing to cross
The finish line

So when the rest step across
And head home
To the next chapter

I'll sit here
Keeping their place
Along the other side of the line
For whenever they come to visit

Poetry In Class

Poetry In Class

Why should I open my mouth
And from its gaping awkwardness
Expect poetry to come out?

Why should I hope
That I spent enough time,
Put in enough effort?

What is the measure of my words?
What is the reason to my rhythm?

Why am I standing here
When my head is spinning
In a race with my speeding heart?

Why did I think
This was a good idea
To dig into my chest and offer up my heart?

What is the worth of my vulnerability?
What is the cost of my insecurities?

So many questions
But here I am
Refusing to be stopped
Just because the dot at the end
Grew a fancy curved hairdo

I'm scared
But that's when I'm courageous

I'm nervous
But that's when I'm courageous

I'm uncertain
But that's when I'm courageous

My courage is a fire
Fueled by this significant realization:

This is
First and foremost
My voice

And my voice
Will first and foremost be
Measured by me

Thank you for listening,
But I've come to the end
The end of this challenge
And the beginning of the next

So I measure myself
And I find myself

Victorious

So, why write this poem?
Why speak these words?
Why do so aloud
If I'm so afraid?

Because there is no victory
In bowing away from fear

And without victory
I cannot inspire.