In Ninth Grade, After You Painted Mother and Children by Diego Rivera

Don’t forget: hold somebody’s hand through the dark. —Joy Harjo, Conflict Resolution for Holy
Beings: Poems

i
You were collectively mocked—
publicly humiliated
labeled “Cheater”

ii
You persisted amidst frail safeguard—
bonded with patterns of blue
found comfort in quiet focus

iii
You observed your mom’s inner distance—
remembered your bedridden dad
understood her lean limitations

iv
You taught your dad’s sister brushwork—
assisted with ways of technique
received indifferent support

v
You favored your friendly art teacher—
treasured encouraging critique
valued his palette of praise

vi
You learned to cradle your own hand—
spurned the injustice of bias
encircled dignity’s light