My pen is a dancer.

It whirls and flutters across the paper

leaving behind

this holy shrine of

the words I cannot say

that unwittingly consume me from night to day,

the obscure thoughts I cannot express;

I hope these words will impress

In my mind they are innocuous,

but on this paper, they are potent, ingenious;

Every letter, word, character is me

Scratched down to share a story.

I am a daughter

To my mom – life fought her

and she won.

Raised me on her own

She was not lonely, only alone.

Could not speak the language, could not drive a car,

but paid for my school, so I could be a star.

I shot up in the sky and soared among the best

When I was scared or doubting, she pointed to my chest;

She always told me to be me

She held onto my body, but let my heart be free.

She told my heart to pave a path – unique, different, rare

She told me if I stumbled, she would always be right there,

And I thought that I was leading the way,

But it was always you and there is something I must say:

Mom, thank you for those little toys,

And dressing me like a baby boy,

Thank you for sacrificing valuable rest,

So you could be me with me instead of studying for your test.

Thank you for letting me be myself

Thank you for raising me by yourself,

Thank you for putting your life into me,

I know it wasn’t easy staying up until 3

You are my life and I am yours –

Our love is intoxicating, everlasting – a lion’s roar.

These words now scribbled down

In my thoughts and emotions, I may drown.

With this delicate trail of ink

I wish for all and everybody to think.

But alas I must cap my pen,

Wait until tomorrow- this journey begins again.