Theme for AP Lit.

The teacher said,

Go home and write a poem.

And let that poem represent you—

Then, it will be true.

Could it possibly be that effortless?

 I am seventeen, tri-racial, born in Alabama.

I have lived there, then Florida, now here

in this metropolitan city that is just beyond Atlanta.

I am the most confused about my identity.

The path from segregation trails down into integration,

throughout time, then she intertwines Black,

White, Red and I emerge from the abyss,

the natural abyss, where I join the world

in my youth, take a moment, and comprehend this life.

It's difficult trying to understand what identity is for you or me at the ripe age of seventeen. But I suppose I am my experiences and cultures and beliefs.

Recognition, I can sense you.

Sense you, sense me— us pair— you, me, mingle in this existence.

Is it me— everyone else too?

Well, I like to hope, dream, and to conspire.

I like to meditate, think, believe, and contemplate life.

I like light-hearted moments with loved ones,

or deep conversations— debates, arguments, or theories.

I guess being tri-racial doesn't determine who I am

just like others who are one race only.

So will my poem be misleading much like my complexion?

Being me, it will not be so easy to tell.

However, it will resonate with you, teacher.

You are grown,

yet also make mistakes, as mistakes are a part of growth.

That is life.

Sometimes you might get mad at the world for being so unfair.

As do I when I can't explain to my little brother why he's called Yellow when his characteristics whisper Black.

But this is race, that much is true!

As I relate to you, you also relate to me—

although you're wise and have more experience— and an adult—

and somehow have a better sense of the world.

This is my poem for AP lit.