Courage In Her

I am trying not to sob, under the pressure of the moment. Eight years old, the end of the year in my new school, We make a celebration; I will give a little speech, "What it means to be an American." I walk out on the stage, I am shy, I am already shaking. Alone under the lights, in my new country, Being judged by so many people, older and larger than I, I start to talk then I look down, away from them, They are sure that I won't make it, I am fighting myself, My body trying to breath as it tries to freeze, And I do cry, I can't stop it, but I am breathing. I can't feel my feet, down where my tears are falling, I look up through my tears, faces are on me, Maybe some are crying, some are smiling. My English is not perfect but I feel the words, I get them out, sometimes sob, one word, Then sob again, I clench my jaw and grind my teeth, I gut through it, I get through it, Not some silly thing like they might expect, But the real hopes and joys of a little girl in a new land. I am dizzy but I can walk off the stage, Buzzing of clapping, happy people, even yelling, I feel light. A man comes to compliment me but stops short As my mom hugs me, he cannot intrude - All the love of parents for children, All the imaginings of mothers and daughters, Focused on my courage. December 16, 2016 For John Hamilton's 'What courage means to you - Poetry Contest'