It is a kind of paradise
To acknowledge I am not a single story
I am many stories … as we all are
You, and you … and you
To be making my journey rather merrily through the cemetery of teen years
When, lah! all of a sudden it is the very thing one thinks might be the end of normalcy
I turn 180 degrees to find that the birth of children is much more than
A teenage girl struggling with her body
More than simply a high-school dropout
More than the loss of family as I had known it
More than the loss of dreams of higher education
More than the end of an arts career
More than an end to a two-year academic tour in HongKong
More than a shock to my precious Aunt Patricia
More than a baby raising a baby.
It is the greatest trial of my life
And while I fight for the birthing right
I feel and watch the anguish and concern in my father’s eyes
He stays the course for my well-being
The stunning babies come, one, by one, and by one
And I rise up and become a new spirit
With new balms calming my tortured being
And it is a kind of renewal
And it is from a divine creator
To this kind of paradise
I lift thee.
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