by: YW

The first and most pressing image that comes to mind when I think of my family is a cliff that towers over a body of water. I am not sure why this is so. I grew up in a nomadic family of four. My father is a workaholic, and stressed academic discipline. My mother is a woman of strong moral convictions, and I am yet to learn more about my brother, who is three years older than me and left for boarding school at a young age. When I reflect over my childhood, I realize that the most difficult aspect of raising such a nomadic family is that it requires a special type of parenthood; parents that can maintain a degree of spiritual stability in their children's lives; parents that ease the period of adjustment when immersed in a new academic and social framework; and lastly, parents that have the ability to build, preserve and carry a home, outside their "home," Ethiopia. Now that I am ready to pursue higher education and leave my family, I am infinitely indebted to them for mastering this type of parenthood.

Like an eagle, my claws used to clasp on the crooked earth (above that slithering sea)
I feared would shake. And when it shook, compelled to look, at my
mother's face as she said: 'despite the earth's tremors, you'll be still and
safe in your family's premises;' I grew braver. I owe this to her. A poet, not gifted
but granted a father who planted the seed of scholarship;
assured me that as long as I gave it every fiber of me,
I had won already. Imbibed inspiration to the brim. I owe this to him.
And lonely brother, who left to boarding school
too soon; I too somewhat
devoid of filial affection, still reached for you.
But your absence will inevitably imply presence;
It is time to bridge that gap; I owe that to you.
For the earth shakes
no longer. My family
has raised me to higher ground.
Poised and prepared
to soar from
higher
ground.