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.