12 times I’ve left houses behind
By Jade Sabajo
Migration Issue, 2015
tore me apart from the faces that raised me from the places that made me
always trying to grow stronger, taller like the buildings I entered and ventured.
many places different faces waiting to tell stories about the stories they’ve climbed to get to this little rhyme
watching the cars rush past me like my thoughts rush past me, pink plastic chairs full of despair breathe in that beef patty polluted Jamaica air. Wake up to the sound of reggaeton as the stray cats meow to the beat. Feel that heat on the bottom of my feet as I run home bare foot after a fun filled day, please let me stay!
basements, backyards sleeping on your best friend’s floor what are best friends for, eleven cats there were never any rats, kicked out always missed out on the block barbecues, walked into school in some new shoes with new news that only I knew. sleeping in chairs get up, fix my hair go to school try and play it cool, ten o’clock curfews shelter rules restrictions my sister couldn’t stand felt as though she had to be the family ‘Man’ this was never within the family plan. Sirens were my lullaby I never really knew how to cry and before I knew it time flew by and I was saying goodbye to the city that raised me.
NYC to the memories that I won’t get back and to the ones I’m coming back to create.
My Name is Jade Sabajo. I am 19 years old. I was born and raised in New York City until I was 16-years-old. New York is where I started connecting with poetry. I competed in two poetry competitions and made it to the third round each time. I am currently a freshman at Dean College majoring in business and dance and I continue to write and study poetry.