“E…” I said, staring at the biggest letter at the top of the eye chart, when the lady in a
white coat asked what I could see. Everything below that was blurry for me. At the age of eleven, I was officially diagnosed with severe myopia. The optometrist
constantly changed the lenses while I was asked to say the letters I was able to see on the screen.
Finally, after constantly switching the lenses, a clear lens appeared. I was able to read all the letters on the screen correctly and was able to clearly see my mother’s face who had been asked to sit outside the examination room. The world suddenly became luminous in front of me.
After long hours of wait, I received my first pair of glasses. Though they were thick and
uncomfortable, it was like love at first sight. Being able to see the world through my glasses introduced me to a new love that I thought would not be replaceable at that time. My glasses were not the only lenses in my life that have helped me see clearer.
Beginning of my sophomore year, I started to realize how powerful words can be. Instead of saying I am not capable of writing poems, I told myself I am eager to learn how to write one. Instead of saying my words will not come across powerful enough, I told myself I’m ready for the challenge. All of this motivation would not have been possible for me to achieve without the help of my 10th grade English Language Arts teacher. I always had a misconception that no ordinary student like me would ever be able to write a poem. “Gifted” is the word I constantly used to describe someone that wrote poems. Even though the majority of my time was spent in front of a mirror,
trying to recite and perform a poem I watched on YouTube, I never really considered writing a poem myself until my sophomore year. As part of a class assignment, I was required to write a poem for the first time. I felt anxious the moment it was assigned. When I went home with the assignment, I spent hours on the internet for advice. Little did I knew, playing with random words that came in my mind allowed me to write a sixteen-line poem that I thought was unattainable for me.
My interest to learn about poems continued growing from there.
It was a lot easier for me to connect my thoughts and emotions with words rather than
pictures or numbers though. Poems certainly made me happier and made my emotions come alive. Learning how to write poems was different than learning how to type fast on a computer. The first time I ever interacted with a computer was in my fifth-grade computer class. When I lived in Bangladesh, my mom shared our TV with our neighbor. Every day during the evening, our neighbor would come to our house to watch the news and sip a cup of tea with my mom. There was no computer, laptop, or tablet at home. When I arrived in the United States, I saw technology everywhere, and my fifth-grade computer class was a struggle. I hardly knew how to turn on the computer and type. The class had a site where the teacher could see how fast a student can type. My name was last on the roster since my typing ability was far below my classmates’.
They were able to complete two lessons in five-minutes while I was taking eleven to
thirteen minutes. When my parents bought a computer for me and my brother, it was
life-changing. I tried learning as much as I could about all the features the computer had. At the end of my fifth-grade year, I was the second on my teacher’s roster. Being able to type fast required me to develop and get exposed to a new experience while for poems, all the feelings came from experiences I had in life and the transition I had. Poems served many purposes for me. There was no limitation or rules for me when I started writing poems. Whenever I was asked to read a poem and analyze it as part of a homework assignment in my English Language Arts class, I looked forward to the class discussion the next day. Poems allowed me to develop a deep understanding of different writers and the ways they view the world.
Poems feel like magic. I did not grow up performing poems in front of people or watch
people perform poems. There are enormous ways anyone can benefit from reading poems or even reciting poems, including the ability to understand the real world, the past, or the future. Now when I write poems, I don’t understand how the time flies. When I sit down to do my schoolwork, I set up an ending time, but when I sit down to write poems, I remind myself that I don’t know when the end will be. This same thought process goes through my mind when I sit down to memorize poems.
Poetry was not love at first sight for me. After wrestling with words and doubting myself, ultimately it opened a new lens in front of my eyes. Being open to learning something new gave me the chance to fall in love with poetry.
by Mahbuba Sumiya
About the author: My name is Mahbuba Sumiya, and I am a rising senior at Benjamin Carson High School of Science and Medicine. I live in Detroit, Michigan. Outside of school, I am a part of Key Club, and broadcast journalist team. I can also be found at my local Starbucks, where I spend way too much of my time.
hARTS magazine 