but like this still house on the prairie, rooted by water, framed by sky —
I endure. I reflect. Today or tomorrow, now or then.
Intro Paragraph (Why this poem?)
There are things I rarely speak, not because they don’t matter — but because they do. Some stories are too sacred to explain plainly. I’ve carried burdens for decades — for family, for faith, and sometimes for people who never knew. This poem is not a confession. It’s a quiet map of where I’ve been and what it cost me to endure. If you’ve ever sacrificed in silence, this is for you.
Today or Tomorrow, Now or Then, Endure to the End
by Jet Mariano
I become what I will—
not by gift,
not by chance.
They said it was for the dream.
But I never dreamed of this.
Not the hauling at midnight,
the cold linoleum behind the receiving dock
but never my name.
I didn’t come with love in hand—
I came with a debt to pay.
To rescue a soul,
and carry a family
across a sea of impossibilities.
A job at USC
became a cure for my father,
a lifeline for my family,
a bridge for my siblings
to find homes I would never live in.
And still, I smiled.
Though phone jobs stripped my voice,
while I studied with red eyes and calloused faith,
and slept beside hopelessness
They think I’m quiet now.
They don’t know I’ve just spoken enough pain
for a hundred lifetimes.
I write it in playlists
that no one plays but me.
I express it in photographs I create—
where silence can finally breathe.
I date it in the margins of scripture
where no one else will read.
Let them think I’ve always been composed.
Let them think the IT job made me.
I know what made me:
A God who watched me
hauling furniture in Burbank
and still whispered,
“You are mine.”
Today or tomorrow,
now or then,
endure to the end.
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