Know Me
they’re meant to set
an example for how your life
may end up, make
mistakes so that you don’t
have to.
but my parents haven’t lived
through what i have, and their
lives are therefore different
than how mine will
be.
most teenagers say their parents
don’t understand them, talk
about loneliness and
fierce individualism, but deep
down, crave affirmation.
my parents understand me; my
obsessive need for control, my
sarcastic nature, my uninhibited
ambition, they understand
all that.
they know me.
they know the facets
of my soul, know the way
i think, analyze everything; i
am not them, and they understand
that i will be different.
my life will not be the same
as theirs, for i am
a girl with red-and-gold
in her blood, raised
and painted and red-and-white.
i have privilege that i
cannot fathom, have
luxuries i take for granted, i
am as much a white girl
as any of my friends.
so why it is so hard
for everyone else to see
past the ochre tones
of my skin, past the almond shape
of my eyes, see me?
why can’t i be
like you?
Blaze
if she was
programmed from
her parents' dna,
she’d have her mother's
pebble blue eyes
and her father's
broad grin,
she’d be tall and lean
with hair in dark waves;
she’d finally be
like them.
she would be white
and have all the
privilege associated.
she wouldn't have
memories of biting
her tongue so she doesn’t
rock the boat.
she wouldn’t have
score marks
from when she bit
too hard
and it bled scarlet,
dripping down her
teeth.
isn't that
the perfect metaphor
for her?
red running
down white,
just a stream,
dwarfed by the
ivory marble
all around.
she shied from pink
throughout her childhood,
for it was too
reminiscent of her
quotidian life:
melded red and white
mocking her failures
to assimilate.
but she changes,
that little girl
scared of who she is
supposed to be
and what she is
supposed to say.
refuses to sit still
as they dulcify
with blue teddies
and white blankets.
rises from the world
telling her to conform,
she burns
pink.
and she knows
if she had her mother’s
blue eyes,
she wouldn’t know
the red that ripples
in her hair,
she wouldn’t know
the way she can
set the world ablaze,
she wouldn’t know
anything but ice.
pale,
cold,
white.
she’s beautiful
in all the ways a girl
should be,
but she’s delicate;
summer’s scorch
would melt her
first touch.
ice melts,
but fire
continues
to blaze.
"know me" is a piece about belonging. As a transracial adoptee raised in a predominantly white area, I have struggled with the notion of 'fitting in' all my life. "know me" expresses some of the thoughts I have had over the years about the fickle nature of 'belonging.'
"blaze" serves as a sequel of sorts to "know me." Where "know me" veers towards petulance and lamentation, "blaze" addresses how one may change as a result of not 'belonging' and how that transformation may ultimately strengthen an individual's character.
Biography:
Sarah Rabby's works have been previously featured by Eve Poetry and Poets of Alberta, and will soon appear in anthologies from Ink Movement, Lemon Daisy Poetry, and Train River. Find her @sarahrabbywriting on Instagram.
Instagram: @sarahrabbywriting