The poem below is an experiment in persona poetry. I love reading persona poetry (and using it to teach students about point of view), but sometimes I find writing persona poetry to be problematic. I think that’s because I’ve put so much time into reminding myself that we all have our own filters and therefore it’s nearly impossible to truly know another’s mind; writing in someone else’s voice can feel presumptuous. However, it is an excellent way to build empathy. Consider the following a paean crossed with an elegy (although I’m reluctant to use that latter word, knowing her work is far from over).
Chelsea Clinton, on my mother
Remember that
She sheltered me
And so did my father
When I was a kid
And they wanted me to be free
To be a kid,
Regardless of the color of my house
Remember that
Grandmother
Was not just a campaign line
Or a Twitter bio soundbite
Remember that
She gave her life
And some of those health issues were real
Not because she’s weak
But because she’s strong enough to work hard
Remember that
She used her maiden name
Until people in Arkansas couldn’t handle it anymore
Remember that
They told her to bake pies
And wash shirts
Remember that
She flew miles and miles
And miles and miles
To see women and girls who will never
Have the chance to be on a plane
Remember that
She’s a lawyer
A diplomat
A politician
A feminist
A mother
A grandmother
A wife
A friend
A human
Remember that
She made “nasty” a badge of honor
And still managed to lose the meme battle
Remember that
She did not interrupt
Or shout
Or spread lies
Remember that
She was seen as weak
She was seen as cold,
Calculated
She was seen as untrustworthy
Remember how
Many people broke her trust
Remember how
Many ceilings she tried to break
Remember
She is as cracked as the glass ceiling
She is imperfect
Flawed,
And hurting
Remember she was graceful in defeat
But she didn’t want to talk about it
That night
And that’s OK (neither did I)
Remember she is human
Remember she is human
Remember she is human
She is my mother
She failed
She is not a failure
Maybe we failed her
Elizabeth DeOrnellas 