Strict Parents

 

As I reminisce about my childhood.

I can’t help but hear the phrases:

“Don’t do that! That’s not what I taught you.”

 

“Don’t go to dances.”

One phrase I would hear

when the school dances came and went.

 

I would feel sad and left out,

when my friends listened to

Whitney Houston

Bonnie Tyler,

“Is that country?”

“We don’t listen to that kind of music here!”

 

My mom took my cassette player

and gave a lecture on how it’s sinful.

 

I’d apologize and return the tapes.

 

A few years later,

my brothers ran outside,

I’d follow them a few steps

only to be yanked back.

“You’re a girl. You don’t do those kinds of things.”

 

I would watch all my cousins laugh until the sunset,

and come back with wide smiles

and new inside jokes.

 

Looking back

I remember how I wanted to run wild,

how I wanted to be free.

How I just wanted for once not to wear a dress

and let my clothes get caked with mud.

 

Just once

I didn’t want to be put in a role.

 

I wanted to speak freely.

But with strict parents,

that was impossible.