The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—
Then, it will be true,
Bewilderment and doubt befell me,
as I contemplate what this page should be.
How much of a page will be me?
What part of it should convey, and portray, and betray?
I am my parents’ second flower, (after the first) -
a lily seed grown by them for sixteen years in a glass jar,
that has a tiny void through which I can see the world.
I live on my city’s upper hill of trees, away from the bees and the breeze,
away where I can hear the echo, not of the chimneys, but of the air and its crust,
of the soil - its dust, and earth’s pure grass.
I am still a child who is asked to blossom into the finest flower, now,
but I do not have one sunlight to fuel my growth, but two.
I journey in Macedonia as a Macedonian,
and absorb its golden rays.
And journey through Turkey as a Turk,
and absorb its silver rays.
But can gold ever be silver? Or silver ever be gold?
Can I be a Turk and live on Macedonian soil, or be a Macedonian and live on Turkish soil?
Sometimes one can only exist and not live, as I do, too, sometimes.
Sometimes my life seems like a long winter,
but that maybe is because I like to read, and paint, and listen -
to befriend Kafka, Friedrich, and Satie.
If truth exists and a page can contain it,
then this is my truth, the one that I carry.
This is my page for English A.
This short poem was completed as a part of an assignment for my English class. It is modeled after Langston Hughes's "Theme for English B."