Who am I? ‘My Father’s Daughter,’ and other poems exploring identity
April is National Poetry Month. We’ve invited readers from across the Central Coast to share their best original poems dealing with self-identity and diversity.
Here is a sampling of the poems. We will be posting new poems at sanluisobispo.com/entertainment/books throughout the month.
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Poems
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“My Father’s Daughter”
By Mary Silberstein, Arroyo Grande
I am my fathers’ daughter, and I am not.
I adored his face
His meaning, his values
His brave resolve in the face of certain defeat
But I am me
I am a woman, not a man
I live in different times than he, times that call for a deep sense of self.
I hold a power, perhaps a form of the same power that he held
A power I never recognized while he lived
A power that calls for extreme resilience
The same power that flows within the DNA of all the generations
Of survivors of humans on this planet
Stung by death
Reeling from loss
Loss of heart, of purpose
We are asked to go on
Life all around us asks us to act and feel
And love and live and forget
As if we might live forever
Forgetting that storms will come again
... Once more bringing us to our knees
Asking us once more to rise up with the
Morning light
And begin again ...
As he did ... and I will.
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“Inherited Rejection”
By Breanna Rosas, Paso Robles
Passed on through the blood of my Mother
From her Mother’s tongue and touch
To mine
Rejection of being – praised for our beauty
But never truly believing we were anything more
Or anything of worth
Felt through the mirror into our blue eyes, we shallowly wept
Tears fill up the glass of fleeting happiness, bottles emptied
My child heart cried for something more
My child heart cried for warmth
Our looks will bring us the love
We desperately searched for truth through our bodies, make-up and clothes
Through men that could never see past our breast and hips
-– Great Grandma, Oma, Mom –it was never your fault
The blood drawn, the sewn shut heart is what has been
The scars will fade as I integrate of what will be forgiven
I’ll take the dive and swim deep in the waters –
Deep in my heart where there was always that warmth,
where there was always that love
I’ll drink from my own cup and my daughter and finally, our family will begin to know the same.
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“A Missing Father”
By Rebecca Collie, Atascadero
Others filled your void Dad
Teaching me the ways of the world
As I roamed the streets alone
My innocence turned into street smarts
learning how to chug a pint
blow smoke rings and feel sick from a high
Losing sight of who I could have been
And who I should have been
Many twists and turns have come my way
Since those barren years
Time spent paying for my mistakes
And time to think how I got there
You’re not to blame for my defeat
It’s my own doing for sure
Lessons learned, lessons lived
My life is mine to fix
Without your influence, good or bad,
To throw into the mix
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“Recipe”
By Myra Lathrop, Paso Robles
3 cups of parents who fought for social justice
2 cups of loving grandparents, immigrants from oppression
1 1/2 cups of friendships, old and new
1 cup of growing up in the mind-expanding sixties
1 cup of multiple marriages, the third one a charm
3/4 cup of music, dance, books, and art
1/2 cup of education, formal and informal
1/2 cup of travel and explorations of other cultures and eras
1/4 cup of DNA: 89% Eastern European Jewish
4% Western Asia
2% Iberian Peninsula
2% Italian/Greek
3% Other
Blend thoroughly with choices made,
paths shunned, and roads embraced.
Top with a generous number of lessons both learned and not.
Allow ingredients to meld together for seven decades.
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“Born Mixed”
By Laurina Kusell, Arroyo Grande
I’ve never understood why it matters why
what color you are
or where your great-grandmother
or mother
or father
or you
originated
Being born part Hispanic, part Jewish, part Scottish, part English
in that order of parts,
it doesn’t make sense
why wars are fought
some thought less of
because they are whole or part
of a place, ethnicity, creed
that doesn’t match with someone else
Born mixed
makes unacceptable thoughts and worse actions
that discriminate, judge, punish
seem naïve, cruel, ignorant
Born mixed makes you open
to the fact
we are the same
all of us
born human
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»» There’s more: Click here to read the next set of poems
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»» More poems: In troubled times, SLO County poets seek to comfort and inspire
This story was originally published April 12, 2017 at 11:34 PM with the headline "Who am I? ‘My Father’s Daughter,’ and other poems exploring identity."