Happily Consuming

   When I read the poem, "As Life Was Five" by Jimmy Santiago Baca, I couldn't stop but feeling stabbed in the heart. This might sound very extreme, but to me that's how it felt. The anguish that was happening all over my body was happily consuming all of me. So much that I cried while writing out my first rough draft. The poem was alive! It truly was, and I was Jimmy the helpless little boy who turned into a man he was pushed into being.

   During the poem I couldn't stop and picture myself in this situation. Jimmy was I and my father his grandfather.  I saw what what he, my father, has to go through in work, outside places, and in other common places. My father just like Jimmy's tells me to "Portate Bien" because I'm better and I'm destined for greatness. But thankfully I haven't encountered the dreadful moment where I have to see the man who I see strong, kind, and loving being spit on with ugly faces because of his color of his skin. Although he did once tell me of this one moment in his life where he helped a elderly old white person help his wife get in a car. He told me that he, the elderly gentlemen, held on to his hand with both of his hands looked him straight into his eyes and said thank you. Of course this man probably was just saying thank you and nothing more, but to my dad he said he has never felt the true sincerity of a thank you from someone before in his life. And that's how I see my father. Someone who will help. Someone who is part of this world just like anybody else. Someone who I would hate to see being labeled with a word of ignorant because of his lack of understanding and communicating english. He is like the part of the poem where Jimmy says, "His eyes on me like a voice in the wind forgiving and hurtful and loving" with nothing less than that. Because to me I see my father as someone who I admire. He is always so happy, and the thought of him being otherwise because he is "different" makes me sick to the stomach. But my father wakes up everyday and goes to his job knowing subconsciously what might happen and to that I am forever grateful.

   Racism might not ever extinct, but I believe in happy endings. I believe that me and my family will prevail in this dark world. Being both the light and salt to this world. This world has a lot to work on and I will enjoy the stabs in my heart as long as I see the rainbow after the thunderstorm. Growing with this poem has helped me to understand that better now.