Unorthodox Beginnings is an uplifting poem by rapper-poet Solomon OB about his foster family. In 2016, his performance of the poem at the Royal Albert Hall won him the title of National Poetry Slam Champion. The poem also features in Welcome to Fostering: A Guide to Becoming and Being a Foster Carer.
She graces stages
West End bound, best friend found in a sibling who
chauffeured her halfway to crazy when we were younger
My sister
She called me baby
As soon as I arrived through those airport doors, she
came charging, screaming, she hugged me with a force
you would expect from a lady who had not seen me
since 10 years before
My mother
He held down swaying relationships at home, light
anchors gripped to sea beds
He sped from Brighton to Bristol and back via London
Picked me up when I was man down behind the enemy
lines of my mind
Before I self-destructed
My brother
He sits across Christmas dinner tables from me and I
wear his family name with pride
And with rose red eyes he told me:
‘I love your mother now more than the day we got
married’
50 years together a testament to the strength they’re both
possessing
My foster mother
My foster father
And yes, he calls my foster mother my mother but with
no intent to disrespect my mother
I mean what else would you call your lover?
The woman who raised these kids, bathed these kids,
takes them in like her own
Told them everything will be OK, told them they could be
anything they wanted to be one day
What would you call her?
Saint? angel? magician for making ends meet when others
may not have been able?
Many names from which to choose but I guess on this
occasion mother will do
So yes we are fostered
And when I say this the lines on people’s faces crumble up
like discarded pages of paper laden with mistakes
But we are not mistakes on pages
We are simply awesome novels
With unorthodox beginnings
We are not mistakes on pages
We are simply a crooked introduction straightened out by
proofreaders Pat and Vic
Whose love and guidance set the foundations for straight
lines for us to write the rest of our story on
No we are not mistakes on pages
So this Christmas past I took your last name as a present
to you to show you now that I can give and take
Victor Roy, Patricia Anne Brooker
I love you.
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