All Poetry
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Foster Parents of the Year An accolade you’ve earnedWhat they have been blinded byIs the chaotic life we’ve churned With so many kids at home It’s easy to be ignored I’m thriving in the darkness Forget me, I’m not bored Meanwhile, I witness craziness Of a life that’s full of stress Whining, screaming, wailing Restraints, a necessary mess Too much trust is
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A place where imagination thrivesThoughts of what life could beVastly different from his childhoodFoster children made Dad see That helpfulness and wealthiness Could go hand in handSee how much we can balance On this tight rope with his clan Everything is going well Churchgoers sing our praises Seems our little show is thriving Dad adds to the playlist Adjusting his
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Mom switches placesShe has mouths to feed Endless struggling, hustling, moving Only wants to be free Mom works two jobsAll the while Dad sees An opportunity in The brand new air that he breathes A foster parent-in-training Adding rooms to the house How can he ace a test?How can he figure it out? Them kids need a hand And while we build
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When I share these storiesTold from Mom’s point of view It’s often met with judgementSince it feels so far off cue Who would live this type of life?Why add children to the mix? Who would date a person that believes meth does the trick? It’s easy enough to judge someone Based on a tainted trackIt’s harder to look
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Dedicated to Dad Free me from this prison I’m a hostage within my mindLonging to know my father If only I knew, I’d be satisfied Mom, you hold all of your secrets Clutched against your breasts Before you inevitably leave me Please put this mystery to rest Amidst my life of misery Constant abuse and neglect I’ve found ways to forgive you To
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Don’t speak unless I speak to you Don’t whine, or pout, or cry Don’t talk back or roll your eyes You pesky little child I’m allowed to shout at you It’s my right as your commander I’m allowed to beat you down This ensures you don’t meander Being that I made youI innately know what’s best As long as I stay in
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Who knew our taste of stability Lay in the concrete of the Modesto heat Where you can cook your eggs right outside Feed a family, in our case, five Two and a half hours from Grandma’s house A small sacrifice to live without doubt Of where Dad’s next paycheck would beAnd whether or not it’s been earned scotch-free Finally, Mom
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The past consumes meMy withering flame haunts meAs I die, he pours life into meRefilling my vesselTilting, balancing the waxTending my wickI ignite once again
Sarah Lopez 