Graduation

It's spring.
It’s spring and I feel a resolving breeze rushing across me
and the person next to me, and the person next to them.

My name is going to be called soon.
And I am gonna hear my family call out.
I might hear the squeals of my cousins,
I might feel my classmates nudge me,
and I might tear up.

Because as I close my eyes
for a brief moment,
I don’t feel the weight of the silk regalia on my shoulders.
I feel my mother’s arms around me
And I am 11 again.

Because suddenly it’s Fall.
It’s Fall and the most of my worries
are wondering if I will be able to carve pumpkins in the evening.
It’s Fall and I can still rest all my worries
into my mother’s embrace.

Because I am 11 again
and I am running around with my brother in the front yard
while my father fixes his car,
and the faint turquoise pigments of Kool-Aid
is still on our tongues.

I don’t think I’m ready.
I don’t think I will be for a while.
But it's Spring.
And my name is going to be called soon.

So I think I will keep on running for awhile,
until I find myself again
with the arms of my mother around me.