by me, her mama. October 2005
This is a poem to my daughter Nikki
Who in many disturbing ways
Resembles a girl I used to know
Somewhere ages and stages ago.
For I too turned eighteen
And rebelled and struck out in rage
at a woman who wanted to shape me
and mold me into her clone.
Like some déjà vu,
I find that you, headstrong you,
Have become an obstinate, independent
extension of me.
Yet thankfully different from me.
While loving you, I live in fear
Of mistakes repeating, your young heart breaking.
The desire to mould you
into what might shield you
from the darkness crossed my mind.
But no, unlike the generation past
I shall never ask that you be me,
for I realize each child, just like a flower,
must turn toward the sunlight
on its own.
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