The Burden of Childhood

Poetry by Christopher D. Soriano-Palma

This poem is about a child who has been working on himself, like an adult, reading each room he enters, working to keep the peace among the family, tiptoeing around the tension between his parents, his siblings' secrets, working to be liked by the friends he makes at school, failing spectacularly, the child keeps going, though, working on himself and his grades, finally, something he might be good at, working on the thing that gets him attention for the next 12 years until he works somewhere else, maybe as a barista, working for the money that is never enough, never plenty, never what he deserves, because he is still working, he’s been working for years now, the peace between his parents is growing weaker, a cold war reaching DEFCON levels, they’ve had nukes this whole time, chose not to use them, for the sake of the family, which the child is still working on, as he tells his therapist, because each sibling is out of the house now, maybe he doesn’t need to work on that peace anymore, because he is still working on himself, the money he fails to make, the career he wishes to have, working on those relationships, not going well, working on those long-lasting gifts his parents and childhood left on his self-esteem, he assures his therapist he is working really hard, can’t you see, he’s working as hard as he can, working on that new promotion at the store—as a manager, everyone wants to speak with him now—working on those little poems and stories he wants to tell, would you like to read them, working on those friendships again—there goes another one to time—he’s working so hard, dammit, working on that peace which will never come, his parents growing old, maybe they won’t live to see him publish his books, like his grandparents, even though the child worked so hard to write them, all while working on himself, and his friendships, and his family, and his relationships, and his job, and his career, working to make himself worthwhile, I’m here, the child cries, I’m working very hard, aren’t I, the child working while keeping a lot of those thoughts to himself, working on that peace again, like the sun does as it rises up and down, like the stock market, and the moon working during the still of the night, watching over the child the day he finally gets to rest.

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Christopher D. Soriano-Palma is a poet born and raised in Watsonville, CA. He is the author of the poetry collection the world is burning and i'm late for work. He earned his MFA in Writing from the University of San Francisco and moved to Los Angeles soon after. Since then, his writing has appeared in numerous publications and has had some short plays performed. He divides his time between Watsonville and Los Angeles. You can follow him on social media through @ChSoriPalma.

Image by Paul Zoetemeijer