Whenever I get a chance, I show young people a video of Oprah talking about gratitude.  She tells of starting each day with being thankful for something At least 3 things. She then tells us how you will end up better off focusing on the 2 dollars in your pocket instead of the money you don’t have. She gives her own experience of how looking for something to be grateful for brings opportunities into your life.

I preface this video by describing how Oprah had been abused, had to live with her grandmother and grew up poor.  

Last year, I held an open mic. I knew everyone but one poet- Mboya Sharif.  She is a Wisconsin poet with ties to Oshkosh.  Her performing her poems was moving. One of her poems was about Oprah’s abuse. It was a stirring poem in which Oprah addresses the family member that abused her.

So, while I like to focus on the message that poetry gives people an opportunity for gratitude, the poem I heard was a powerful reminder that poetry is often about pain. That one of the values of poetry is to express pain and to have a discussion of terrible events that do exist in this world.

A book or an article about Oprah’s life would be an important read.  But Mboya’s poem that goes through the emotions someone has towards their abuser is immediate and powerful. This is a cliché, but it does communicate heart to heart. 

Poetry cuts to the heart of the matter.

To make an analogy.  Historians  study Patrick Henry’s speech.  But the only part the rest of us need to know is Give Me Liberty or Give me death.

Poems are the takeaway from the story.

If it wasn’t stealing, I’d read Mbyoa’s poem. But instead, I am just going to read one of my poems. This poem does not tackle trauma. I’ve had my share of hardships, but overall, I am blessed and have a difficult time tackling such topics in poetry.

Boy in Pajamas is a poem about not feeling I was a good enough parent.  

Boy in Pajamas

Boy in pajamas

hand on the mouse

jumps to the action

of an online world.

The collector of badges

powers up with coins and weapons

each level up provides more armor.

The believer in magic

wants you to conjure

and dispel everything, 

just to experience the charm.

But you know

your parental spells

are the only misdirection.

Like the Superman 

on his top,

you try to be a hero

because he believes.

He believes so much so

that you try to collect powers

for a figmentary cache

to protect him.

But you are not superman

you are not an avatar.

Your weapons are

only what you already failed with.

It was published in Verse Wisconsin issue 110, which is a now defunct journal.

I hope it gets to the heart of how I was feeling.  I could have written an essay on parenting.  But I could not write an engaging one. I didn’t want to.  I just wanted to share how I could not live up to my child’s view of me.  I wanted to connect with other parents, not bore them with my feelings.