This is one of my favourite spoken word poems, in which the poetess emphasizes the many lessons of life by telling them to her hypothetical daughter. These lessons inspire the reader to live a life of meaning.
IF I COULD HAVE A DAUGHTER
If I could have a daughter,
instead of "Mom", she's gonna call me "Point B",
because that way she knows that no matter what happens,
at least you can always find her way to me.
And I'm gonna paint the solar systems on the backs of her hands
so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say
"oh, I know that like the back of my hand".
And she's gonna learn that this life will hit you hard in the face,
wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach.
But getting the wind knocked out of you
is the only way to remind your lungs
how much they like the taste of air.
There is hurt, here,
that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry.
So, the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming,
I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the Cape all by herself
because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers,
your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal.
Believe me I've tried.
"And baby", I'll tell her,
don't keep your nose up in the air like that
I know that trick;
I've done it a million times.
You're just smelling for smoke
so you can follow the trail back to a burning house
so you can find the boy
who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him.
Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place,
to see if you can change him.
But I know she will anyway,
so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby,
because there's no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix.
Okay there's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix.
But that's what the rain boots are for,
because rain will wash away everything, if you let it.
I want her to look at the world through the
underside of a glass-bottom boat,
to look through a microscope at the galaxies
that exist on the pinpoint of the human mind,
because that's the way my mom taught me.
That there'll be days like this Bilby
days like this, my momma said.
when you open your hands to catch
and wind up with only blisters and bruises;
when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly
and the very people you wanna save
are the ones standing on your cape;
when your boots will fill with rain,
and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment.
And those are the very days
you have all the more reason to say thank you.
Because there's nothing more beautiful
than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline,
no matter how many times it's sent away.
You will put the wind in win some, lose some.
You will put the star in starting over, and over.
And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute,
be sure your mind lands on the beauty
of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale from 1 to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive.
But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar.
Tt can crumble so easily, but don't be afraid to stick your
tongue out and taste it.
"Baby", I'll tell her,
"remember your momma is a warrior and your poppa is a warrior,
and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes
who never stops asking for more".
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things.
And always apologize when you've done something wrong, but
don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small,
but don't ever stop singing.
And when they finally hand you heartache,
when they slip war and hatred under your door
and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat,
you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.
Video Credits: TED
Sarah Kay
(born June 19, 1988), Sarah Kay is a performing poet since she was 14 years old. Sarah is the founder of Project V.O.I.C.E, a group dedicated to using spoken word as an educational and inspirational tool, teaching poetry and self-expression at schools across the United States.