Every year, 26,000 babies are stillborn in America. In 2003, one of them was my son.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Another Poem

Hosted my daughter's 8th birthday party this morning, and it was fun until she melted down completely at the end and turned into a spoiled brat. I'm feeling really down now, upset with her, sad, disappointed, feeling like I've raised a brat. Ok, so I'm feeling sorry for myself, I know, but, to change the subject entirely: A friend of mine on Facebook put up this poem by Langston Hughes the other day, post-inauguration, and it is too wonderful not to share. Hope you enjoy it.

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

I'll sit at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"

They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

-- Langston Hughes


Mommy (You can call me OM) said...


Beautiful poem.

I can totally relate to your feelings about your eight-year-old. We hosted my sever-year-old daughter's party last weekend. The party went well, but her report card we received yesterday was a bit disconcerting. It definitely felt like an attack on my character.

I hope you're feeling better.

Monica H said...

Do you need a relative to talk to? I'll be yours too if you want :-)

She's growing up into her own self. Being a girl, sometimes means being a brat. It's no reflection on how you've raised her. She'll have her moments, I'm just sorry it had to be her birthday. Hang in there.