Poem: Who I Am Since First Grade

Who I Am Since First Grade

I am told there was a joy
that was within me
that was destroyed,
a part of who I was
that did not survive
what happened.

I do not know.  I recall
so much.  I do not foget,
though I was young.
It was real.  Few things
are that real.  I remember
feeling broken, feeling
I could not be better.

I remember the day
I was told I was dyslexic,
that I was not dumb
or incapable: I could learn,
was smart, only
different.  I understood
that difficulty was not
a final judgement.

But, I am told it did not restore me,
that I am still not that person,
the one I was before,
that happy boy.  He 
had been wounded
from the world,

and I wonder
if that is you thinking
I am still broken,
that I was right
when I thought that,
that all I have done since
meant nothing,
was too late,
was far too late.

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