threshold by Naomi Horner (15, USA)

an invisible line we cross, growing from
childish to responsible
and when asked
we call ourselves “mature”
with bold black strokes, messy print
across flimsy paper
and yet
am i all grown-up because i’ve taken college classes,
am i
mature because i can cook and clean and care for others?

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do i meet the threshold
when i sit in the living room and realize my grandparents won’t live forever,
that with cancer comes quiet, comes
silent sorrow and fatigue so evident in the lines on our faces,
comes the realization that we should keep our friends close
but our family closer?
 
i think maybe maturity is when we come to realize that the world is
not fair, but
we can do our best to be just,
when we have met our glass ceilings
and decided to grow
 despite the shards embedded in our souls
 
i think we are mature when we realize that it is
better to love than to hate,
when we learn to
listen to wisdom and take correction
but to lock our values firmly
behind our ribcages, deeply implanting them behind our skulls
 so that we’d be swayed only by those worth listening to
 
i think we are not as mature as we like to say we are.  

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