Monday, March 22, 2010


She is the woman who gave birth to me.
She was, at the moment, still sixteen.
She resumed school and earned a college degree.
She struggled to be stable financially.

She’s a nurse who worked from here to there;
Leaving my little sister and me to Grandma’s care.
She worked abroad, worked everywhere.
She mailed money to us and thought it was fair.

Washington, DC, was her final destination;
Working for two years and announced a declaration.
She wanted my sister and me to move to another nation.
As naïve as I was, I was expecting perfection.

September 3, 2006, is a significant date.
I had an opportunity for my life to recreate.
Sadly, it turned out to be something I’d hate.
I am appalled that I was misled by my fate.

My mother is whom I blamed for my downfall.
She is whom I hit back and made the 911 call.
I was a prisoner of this wall and that wall.
Tears were shed at night but around her, I refused to bawl.

Three months later, from foster home, I ran away.
I was a homeless person with nowhere to stay.
Each day I asked myself, “Would I make it out alive today?”
“If I won’t, please protect my family, God,” I would pray.

Halloween, Christmas, my birthday, blizzards, Valentine’s.
I was starving while families were out to dine.
I asked God and He gave it to me: a sign.
A couple of hours later, it was time.

She opened the door and tears streamed down her face.
I thought she would slap me but that wasn’t the case.
She was beyond comprehending, I was beyond amazed.
This mother-daughter team is back in the race.

She apologized to me and to her, so did I.
We talked with ease and an emotion I could not recognize.
Like your body is free from tension without exercise.
Like a hideous individual with no need for disguise.

The court system determined I’m to be locked up until November.
I wonder, how drastically would my life change after?
I concluded I’ll survive because there’s support from my mother.
She assured me that in the end, all will be better.

She was my age when she had a baby.
Did she predict how that baby girl would turn out to be?
I’m blessed she didn’t entirely lose hope on me.
You’re irreplaceable. I’m proud to call you, “Mommy.”

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