B
-Sarah Kay
If I should have a daughter,
Instead of Mom, she's going to call me Point B.
Because that way she knows that no matter what happens,
at least she can always find her way to me.
And I'm going to paint the solar systems on the backs of her hands
so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say,
"Oh, I know that like the back of my hand."
And she's going to learn that this life will hit you,
hard,
in the face;
wait for you to get back up,
just so it can kick you in the stomach,
but getting the wind knocked out of you
is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the
taste of air.
There is hurt,
here,
that can not be fixed by band-aids or poetry,
so the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't
coming,
I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape
all by herself.
Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers,
your hands will always be too small to catch
all the pain you want to heal.
Believe me, I've tried.
"And Baby", I'll tell her,
"don't keep your nose up in the air like that.
I know that trick, I've done it a million times.
You're just smelling for smoke,
so you can follow the trail back to a burning house
so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire,
to see if you can save him.
Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place
to see if you can change him."
But I know she will anyway,
so, instead, I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and
rain boots nearby,
because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix.
Okay, there are a few heartbreaks chocolate cant fix,
but that's what the rain boots are for.
Because rain will wash away everything if you let it.
I want her to look at the world
through the underside of a class-bottom boat.
to look through a microscope
at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind.
because that's the way my mom taught me.
That there'll be days like this,
There'll be days like this, my mama said,
when you open you hands to catch
and wind up with only blisters and bruises.
When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly
and the very people you want to save
are the ones standing on your cape.
When your boots will fill with rain
and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment
and those are the very days you have all the more reason to
say "thank you."
Because there is nothing more beautiful
than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline
no matter how many times it's sent away.
You will put the wind in win some.
Lose some.
You will put the "star" in starting over
and over.
And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute
be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale of one to over-trusting
I am pretty damn naive.
But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar;
it can crumble so easily
but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out
and taste it.
"Baby," I'll tell her,
"Remember your mama is a worrier
and your papa is a warrior
and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes
who never stops asking for more.
Remember that good things come in threes
and so do bad things.
And always apologize when you've done something wrong,
but don't you ever apologize fro the way your eyes refuse to
stop shining.
Your voice is small but don't ever stop singing.
And when they finally hand you heartache,
when they slip war and hatred under your door,
and offer you handouts on street corners
of cynicism and defeat,
you tell them that they really outta meet
your mother."
[One day, I hope to be this kind of person.]
