She is the one I saw on the first day,

She the body of timber, she the tree

Upon her branches she bore me to stay,

She is my leader and I am her seed.

My roots she planted into the soft ground,

She nourished me with her warm, clean water,

Her trunk stiffened with my slightest made sound,

With my every cry, movement, or mutter.

With the passing of time, my stem did grow,

My leaves matured and listened to the call,

Of the wind, which imposed views high and low,

As my leaves pondered she witnessed it all.

She taught the path my branches should follow,

I saw her path, but chose to grow askew

To my tree of life I caused great sorrow,

My buds rebelled from her instructing cues.

I tore at the branches that nourished me,

I closed my buds off as if not to care,

Blinded was I to the tears of my tree,

With patience she stood and was always there.

Never did she neglect me or my needs,

I could always go to her just to speak,

How lucky am I to be her only seed,

Blessed am I to have a tree so meek.

Now do my buds open and flowers bloom,

How happy am I to be her daughter,

Her seedling whom she carried in her womb,

She is wise and good, she is my mother.

age 16

Que nosotros van hacer sin madres?

The Decision