If I Should Have a Daughter

"If I should have a daughter, instead of "Mom," she's gonna 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 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 cannot 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's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't 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 glass-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 momma said. ♫ When you open your 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's 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 winsome, 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 from 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 momma is a worrier, and your poppa 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 for 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 ought to meet your mother. "
--Sarah Kay


          I love this poem for a lot of reasons. The first is that it's not structured like a classic poem. It has no stanzas or line breaks. I think that makes it really unique and also serves the message of the poem in a more appropriate way than if it were several stanzas. This poem is about the ups and downs of life, about what everybody goes through. The way the poem is organized, just one continuous paragraph, almost like a story, is like life itself. It keeps going, always, no matter what is thrown at you. When you stumble, you just have to get up and keep walking. That's the main message--that there are so many things to remember, so much advice to take in, that you have to keep moving and living before it swallows you up. It's like the poem itself is running, and only when it turns a whole cycle and comes back to the mother does it skid to a halt and make you think about it.
          A recurring theme in Sarah Kay's poem is superheros. When you're a child, you think that there are superheros flying around the world every minute of every day, and that when you close your eyes and wish really hard for one, they will come to rescue you. But what Sarah Kay is saying is that sometimes you have to be your own superhero. Sometimes there is no one to rescue you, and that's reality, but it doesn't matter because once you realize it, you just might gain the strength to pull yourself out of the train tracks. And that you can't always help other people, but help them to help themselves. You are always going to have to deal with others in life, and sometimes when you think they might be on your side, they'll turn around and change their minds. But in the end, that's what makes you stronger.
         I think that Sarah kay put everything she learned from her life experience into her poem for her daughter, should she have one. She wants her daughter to know that everything bad can happen to you, and you can still be happy. Even when life presents to you evil and betrayal and heartbreak on a rusty plate, you have to keep searching for all the good on the silver platter. And when you find it, it will just be that much sweeter. Sarah Kay will tell her daughter that no matter how small her voice is, no matter how small she may seem to the world, she can be strong, and she has got to keep singing and showing the world how sweet her own voice can ring.
         This whole poem, although directed at one person, is something anybody can relate to. It's self-empowering. The whole message is to get up when you fall. To sing when the world tries to silence you. To turn your head when evil hits you. These are the things that get us through life. There are countless analogies for life, rhymes and riddles. Everybody goes through the same elements of life, but with their own style. And that's what makes it interesting.

Poetry Unit

Wait for the Day to Dawn
As the sky blanket billows down
On top, blends gray and brown
Spread your potluck on the ground
And wait for the sky to sob.

As the river ripples clear
Filled with sorrow, built with tears
Welcome friends to share a cheer
And wait for the news to ring.

As the wind hums its tune
Silent cry of weathering dune
Stay awhile, don't leave so soon
Just wait for the mill to whistle



What Happens to the Lost?

Some believe in souls
Others that they're up for sale
And that he'll buy you out eventually,
Inevitably.

I think,
No one knows how now.
So really,
Why bother worrying.



What is Poetry?

Poetry is everything you aspire to be
Things better than the best thing,
and worse than the worst.
Poetry is everything you are
Things you wear around your neck,
And things you hide in your shoe
When you want no one to see.

Writing About Painting: The Mill

           The famous artist Rembrandt was born in Amsterdam, Holland, in 1606. He spent the rest of his life there, painting the people and scenery surrounding him. He often depicted his family members, and he was best known for his realistic portraits of people. He completed more self-portraits over the course of his life than any other artist in history. Some of his works feature windmills, which were abundant in Holland in his time period. Most of Rembrandt's models wore dark, grim clothing. So, sometimes for fun, Rembrandt would dress flamboyantly in bright colors and jewels, and then paint himself. When his first wife Saskia died, Rembrandt hired a woman named Hendrickje to take care of his only son, Titus. She and Rembrandt soon fell in love and later they had a daughter, Cornelia. Rembrandt often incorporated religion into his pieces. He painted many Bible scenes. Rembrandt did not save the fortune he accumulated from his paintings. Instead he bought antiques and random items and used them in his works. Rembrandt died in 1669, at age 63.

  

             I think this painting is amazing because it takes a simple, ugly day and spins it into a beautiful landscape. I love the way the windmill glows like the sun is setting across the river, even when the sun isn't shown in the painting. Rembrandt painted very realistic details, like the reflection of the trees in the water. Something that I noticed about this painting is that the people at the bottom are really not the focus of the image. It's almost as if they're hiding. They're an afterthought in the shadow of the mill.



Wait for the Day to Dawn

As the sky blanket billows down
On top, blends gray and brown
Spread your potluck on the ground
And wait for the sky to sob.

As the river ripples clear
Filled with sorrow, built with tears
Welcome friends to share a cheer
And wait for the news to ring.

As the wind hums its tune
Silent cry of weathering dune
Stay awhile, don't leave so soon
Just wait for the mill to whistle.


           This is the poem I wrote about Rembrandt's piece The Mill. In each stanza I tried to express the natural beauty in the poem, but also to observe the people and their interactions. The way I look at the painting, there's a family living in Amsterdam. The father is taking a turn on his boat while his son watches on the banks. The mother and baby girl lie down on a blanket at the edge of the water, and the grandfather stands back to admire the land from a little farther away. I think that this painting can be related to those special family days where you just enjoy being together. It might be different all over the world, but you can always find peace somewhere. I think that The Mill is the depiction of that place for Rembrandt. His escape. What's yours?


 Venezia, Mike. 'Rembrandt.' Pages 3,4,6,9,17,18,22,26,27,28,29,30.