At my desk

When I sign my name 

to the graduation cards I will send the young 
achievers in my life,

I think a moment on my own 
cap and gown, blue as the Spring Missouri sky 

that afternoon at Grandview High.

My family not present, mother not able to stand

the sun, her Army wife nerves too raw, 

too keened after five moves in four years

with my soldier father 

who bunks in our house but doesn’t 

make eye contact.

In my family, graduation 
from high school is a duty 
not an achievement so there will only 
be ice cream and cake after dinner.

Still, I walk off the green lawn, my diploma 

rolled and ribboned in my hand.

Its power pulsing through palm and fingers.

Thin paper with little physical weight

holds a transforming energy.

I see myself at the portal of another world,

as if I'd been living in a cage and now 

the hatch has flown open and I can wriggle 
and heave myself out, shake myself awake 
with a wild cry.

I am now in charge 
of myself.