REMINISCING NOT RUMINATING: ADULTING

part 5 of 5

Do you remember the kid you bullied?
From elementary through high school days?
Do you ever wonder what happened to him?
The real question, do you really care?

You know, the one you tormented for years?
When you poked fun of his first and last name?
When you said something vulgar in full rhyme?
When you trashed his lunch by stomping on it?

When you laughed at the homemade clothes he wore?
When you threw his clothes away during gym class?
When you stole his homework from his backpack?
Do you remember any one of these?

Over time he learned to stay clear of you,
Walking purposely opposite of you.
He learned to ignore all your spiteful words,
Showing no reaction nor emotion.

After all the years of your bullying,
He managed to toughen his gentle soul.
He may have forgiven you in his mind,
Definitely he’s not forgotten you.

Focus on positive influences,
He learned to move past the years of torment.
As an introvert, he kept his distance,
He guarded his own space and privacy.

This authentic, empath, altruistic, 
This loner never forgot his first friends.
His niche since pre-school years remained steadfast,
Throughout his entire lifelong journey.

From every milestone in life achieved,
They stood tall and proud by each other’s side.
Celebrating, supporting, embracing,
Everything in life’s offerings and more.

Granting gratitude for all his mentors,
Giving proof to the faithful and those not,
How tenacity and resilience,
Ingrained into every fiber of his soul.

Here’s to the one you called the misfit kid,
The one some simply thought was left behind.
With all odds played against him, from day one,
Yet, he is the one who propelled through life.

MY UNFINISHED WORDS REMAIN SPOKEN SILENTLY

Here’s a message to you, my dear friend,
Except I wish I could deliver,
As if you were sitting next to me.
Talking into late hours of night,
However, my heart knows otherwise.

Except now I see you in disguise,
Realizing all will be all right.
Learning your angel had set you free.
I heard you earned angel wings quicker, 
Not knowing your life’s come to an end.

Now I reminisce, times together,
Evoking my selfish pettiness.
As I never had a chance to say,
Everything you meant to me and more.
Something tells me you already knew.

The conversations I had with you,
Engaged my heart and made my soul soar.
Virtuous chats made time fly away,
Even when one was forced to digress.
Zen be with you, my dear friend, Heather.

In Memory of Heather Linnea Estevez

MASTERING METAMORPHOSIS: HIGH SCHOOL YEARS

part 4 of 5

 

Over the short summer before high school,

This once chubby boy became a young man.

His physique hadn’t changed, yet all of him changed,

He found his voice and overcame shyness.

 

All four years, he kept a grueling schedule,

Consisting of advanced academics.

Everything geared towards his college success,

With a few electives for good measure.

 

As they approached the cafeteria,

Each passing your way, you charged admission.

Just enough, to be short for milk or lunch,

Leaving them playing catch up the next day.

 

He tried escaping self-imposed boundaries,

With his friends, they tried an after-school club.

That one kid you called a nerd, found himself,

Cautiously, joining your guarded circle.

 

He kept his same friends from his early years,

Remained inseparable, like close brothers.

With new interests, his social circle grew,

But preferred to remain an introvert.

 

Although he remained steadfast towards his goals,

High school allowed him to be vulnerable.

He began exploring to find his lost self,

Through activities expanding his interests. 

 

He cautiously permitted others in,

Becoming part of his inner circle.

More than he would like to ever admit,

He feared scars you created would surface.

 

With this one giant monumental step,

He became self-poised, filled with confidence.

He built a solid foundation for life,

With a great balance of life’s success skills.

 

Your bullish ways no longer controlled him,

He suppressed them to granules of his past.

Your past taunts, assaults and other abuse,

Became nothing but distant memories.

 

With his last high school obligations met,

He accepted his diploma proudly.

Built a foundation of academia,

He’s well equipped for tomorrow’s success.

 

 

 

 

SHADOWS OF UNCERTAINTY WITH A DASH OF FAMILIARITY

Armed with angst of the unknown,
I entered the opaque doors,
Knowing not what waits for me.
Suddenly, my mind flashes back,
Many years my distant past,
When I first started high school.  

 

The days when technology,
Was much like the sun rising
Above the ocean’s horizon.
Where typewriters chatted tales,
With each key striking paper,
Ready to share the day’s dole.  

Before I’m a minute late,
I always arrive early.
I approached the welcome desk.
Greeted by a young lady,
I gave my name and payment
She smiles and checks me in. 

 

She asks me to follow her,
Where I am shown to a room.
I enter the room, not cold.
With walls painted black and with,
What some may not call artwork
While others share their praise. 

Here, I am greeted again,
By this welcoming woman
With a genuine smile,
Larger than her petite self.
We chatted some, then I knew,
I felt we had met before.  

As the room began to fill,
I realized she’s the one  
Whom I e-mailed my questions.
Which she politely replied,
Not to just one, but a few,
Comforting my nervousness.

 

After her introduction,
She hoped to break the silence,
With an icebreaker to play.
She prepared a bingo sheet,
With mixed clues of character,
Ideally, match a square or more. 

Much like the first day of school,
Most returning, some new faces,
All sharing a common bond,
Creative muse of writing.
We sat, patiently listened,
As to what will happen next.   

 

Explaining poetic terms,
Proceeding to reciting,
A couple of her favorites.
She set out our directive,
Walk through the exhibit halls,
Both, the ground and second floor.  

Using our own sense of sight,
Find the piece calling to you,
Screaming your name as you near.
She shares, carefully listen,
Each piece has a tale to tell,
As unique as its own self.  

I tried following instructions,
Observed visual elements,
Along with other guidelines.
Each exhibit, like a clique,
Telling me, I don’t quite belong,
I must keep it moving along.

 

Each one being more distant,
I heard the faint laughter and
Taunting as if I never left,
Moving past my high school days.
With the startle of white noise,
Reality woke my soul. 

I walk out and all about.
It was the empty, white walls,
Looking like my blank notebook,
Called my name and welcomed me.
Alone, I approached closer,
Hoping to hear his story. 

I listened to the whispers,
Ever so faint, drowned out by,
Humming of the cooling air.
All the voices and footsteps,
Masqueraded their mumbles,
Yet, allowed words freely flow. 

Even after all these years,
My younger self still haunts me,
Even with many past years.
Realizing, much of me,
Still remains, just like back then,
A lost, social introvert. 

 

 

 

AMBUSHING AWKARD ADOLESENCE: MIDDLE SCHOOL YEARS

part 3 of 5

He approached middle school with angst and fear,
It was like he was starting all over.
No longer did he feel safe with one class,
He was now challenged with six new teachers.

Further causing his nerves to twist and turn,
Unfamiliar faces filled each class,
When he saw a friend or two in each class,
He allowed his inner peace take over.

Suddenly, you’re now this fearless giant,
You towered over his own short stout self.
Outside of the classroom and in the halls,
He made sure he was never caught alone.

Your reputation of a boy bully,
Gave you precedence for all your school years.
The hallway to the cafeteria,
Already had your name assigned to it. 

Perfectly hidden from all adult view,
Allowed you full reign of your bullish reign.
Even in middle school, he couldn’t escape,
Your sly grin welcomed him on the first day.  

With changes of manhood coming to play,
This was the beginning of three long years.
From tossing his backpack in the dumpster,
To hiding his street clothes during gym class.

On many days you stole his brown bagged lunch,
Screaming at him, that fat boys don’t need lunch.
Others laughed with you and your evil ways,
So they wouldn’t become your next victim.   

Finishing a shower after gym class,
He found his clothes often in a trash can.
Often, he changed to his sweaty gym clothes,
When you purposely misplaced his school clothes.

When it wasn’t something with lunch or clothes,
Cruel song parodies and jokes left your mouth.
You mocked his name or made fun of his looks,
Despite all this, he never showed his scars.

Only to be uprooted once again,
With high school being around the corner.
Déjà vu, took a deep breath, said a prayer,
He hoped high school would only get better.

 

LOST IN A SEA OF MANY: LATER ELEMENTARY YEARS

part 2 of 5

 

That same kid you tormented since preschool,

Followed you through elementary school.

Now you called him fatso or something worse,

By now, he learned to choke back any tears.

 

You became one of the few boy bullies,

Guarding each corner, of the long hallways.

By avoiding becoming your victim,

Your nervous ones turned in their own classmates,

 

He easily fell prey to school bullies,

Not knowing how to fight his own battles.

He never hinted even a whisper,

About the on-going bashing he faced.

 

Starting each morning at the school bus stop,

Those waiting, watched how you tormented him.

You found ways to pick fights on the school bus,

Made worse, as there was no place to escape.

 

All he needed was one kind-hearted soul,

Who’d lend an ear to hear his cry for help.

Yet, the introvert within kept him hushed,

Despite desperately screaming deep within.

 

He remained the shy one for all his days.

With only one or possibly two friends.

Neither were best friends but they remained close,

Since making friends was even more painful.

 

Knowing revenge could be much more hurtful,

He never snitched nor showed his inner pain. 

Adults watched, but seemed to not give a damn,

Either way, he learned to adapt his ways.

 

Even though he liked to keep to himself,

His small social circle was just enough.

They rarely chatted amongst each other,

Yet, played at recess and shared their lunch break.

 

In their unique esoteric language,

Body language and gestures spoke enough.

By the end of elementary school,

He found his niche and stayed in his circle.

 

Just as he found his footing and balance,

The years at this school came to a quick end.

The better part of summer flew right by,

Filled with adventures and family trips.   

 

 

SOCIAL AND SENSORY SHUTDOWN : EARLY ELEMENTARY YEARS

part 1 of 5

 

Fearing separation from his mother,

He held on to her hand with a firm grip.

Happy sounds of children became louder,

As both approached closer towards the classroom.

 

They were greeted by a pretty lady,

Inviting both into her large classroom.

Loud sounds escaped the room as they entered,

Both began talking amongst each other.

 

The security of his mother’s hand,

Released her hand seamlessly from his own.

He felt the pretty lady take his hand,

Then walked him to the other children.

 

The pretty lady let go of his hand,

Nervously, he waved bye to his mother.

He heard the laughter and listened for words,

But couldn’t quite understand any words.

 

Being shy or insecure, maybe both,

He was often found playing his lone self.

He was then redirected towards group play,

Where he continued playing with others.

 

The pretty lady sang songs and played games,

Helping the children become school-ready.

He was excited to speak, read and write,

In his newly learned language of English.

 

By now, your preying eyes were on this boy,

As the bully boy, you savored your prey.

Bossing the rest of the children around,

It was your rules; who, how and where they played.

 

Many yielded to each of your commands,

Avoiding being degraded by you.

Each holding back tears in front of their peers,

They complied and followed all your orders.

 

Being the new kid in class, you mocked him,

Reinforced by your herd, he stood alone.

Taking every punch and verbal attack,

With no adult in sight to break the fight.

 

Containing fear of what may come his way,

He suppressed your daily bully boy ways.

He held the pain he faced all to himself,

Not even his teacher or parents knew.