Blogbox | Poetry

My place

By - 01.07.2018

A poem.

I took my dream,

The first steps to give it,

Melted my brain and forgot the sleep,

A place in the place to fit.

A place in the place I couldn’t fit at all,

Because a place in my place they had fit,

For my place I waited a year,

But again, that place someone “stronger” made it theirs.

How stupid I was to think all the time,

Who am I going be when I grow up,

I’m going to be this, or I’m going to be that,

I shouldn’t worry,

I’m so lucky to be born in this place,

It chooses my profession, my job…

Sometimes, it chooses who you’re gonna marry, right?

A free place I found somewhere in school,

And I fit in well,

But how can I let the place I deserved only in my soul and forgetfulness,

When the others can’t make it righteous?

Place, place, place, place, place, place!

Yes I wonder where my place is,

I finished my studies and guess what?

Instead of being proud, I wonder what to do with my life?

How can I be successful doing something I do not love?

Do you feel me?

Is anybody there to listen to my voice?

Please, don’t make me go through this,

I may have had a lot of challenges before,

This shouldn’t be my first one,

Please show me an open door,

Have you had your doors open?!

I’m supposed to get the place I deserve and worked the twelve years long!

When I started studies my dad said;

“I’d sell everything I have to pay my daughter’s tuition fees,”

But NO dad,

You don’t need anything to sell, you’re barely making out!

My place is not in a shop,

Those who think that need to stop,

It’s only price is my hard work,

I don’t need to be rich,

Nor being lucky of having blood relationships.

Did you know it’s so easy to get the good grades too?

Instead of learning some professors ask you to translate pages for their new book,

How “beautiful!”

Our bookstores will be filled with books,

And those who did the hardest part, will only sell them!!!

Had to deal once with this,

E-mailed my work my professor asked me to do for 10 and went to his office,

He said it’s not enough you have to continue something else to translate,

I asked him politely to evaluate, he mentioned the grade 8,

I was confused and took what he asked me to translate,

When I went outside I was shocked, Oh my God that’s 400 pages,

Got back to his office and said I want that grade 8,

“It’s not an 8, it’s 7”

Why 7 you said it’s an 8,

He said every time you show up one less grade you’ll take!!!

But sorry professor for bothering you for the third time in a row,

I can’t do the translation you asked me for,

In fact I’m not sorry at all,

You’re here to help me, not me to help you.

I don’t care about the grade at the end you’ll bring,

Anyway, I won’t know anything!

I barely found a job,

And did my best in that place,

But yesterday and today I can’t be calm,

This is not my dream’s place, that’s the reason why!

So I had to adapt myself somewhere out of my country,

Living alone, in pain, missing my family, needed the money,

Damn all the years and the effort,

This is not where my grave’s place belongs.

So I came back again to my place,

That more of a place I couldn’t get used to feel,

Burned in flame came to tell myself and you,

For our place we should melt, like a candle does too.

This poem was performed by the author at the Kosovo Slam Poetry Festival, organized by alumni from the YES youth exchange and study program, and has been published here with permission. The annual festival aims to be a space for young people in Kosovo to express their struggles and social issues through their original verses.

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