Growing Into It

[Author's note: This poem is meant to be read as a shaped poem to resemble a tree with roots (see image above). Below is the poem without formatting.]

***

I

don’t

know why it’s

such a surprise after

forty-odd years when

someone says “Alison.”

Alisons are blonde and bubbly

and blue-eyed, the cheerleaders of

the schoolyard. I would have preferred

to be named “Elizabeth” after my grandmother,

the other contender as a label for me—the name of

a queen.

***

I

don’t

know why my

parents named me

as they did; the answer,

when asked, has never been fixed.

It might just have been a trend, a word

whispered on the edge of their thoughts,

something that worked its way into their dreams while

my mother was nauseous for months with morning sickness.

A name birthed onto the certificate with no conscious decision-making

process other than a vague feeling on their part. Or perhaps it was just

their wish for me, a wish to become a blonde, bubbly, blue-eyed baby.

***

I

think

Shakespeare

would have called me

a rose, and I am inspired

by the mutability of what might

have been. For a while, I borrowed

my middle name to define me—Akiko—

Japanese name of “autumn child.” It fit the

sharp angles of my personality better, I thought.

Beauty found in the hard “K” of the non-English term.

***

My mother’s family:

Japanese-American.

Important to have this

secret, hidden part of

heritage passed down to

mixed-race daughters.

She, herself, grew up

in post-war racism of

World War II. I’ve

been called names that

shouldn’t be repeated, but

she was called much worse.

***

But the name I’ve embraced as wholly mine and cannot be taken away

is more used, yet more personal still: the title of “Mom.”

I hear it spoken across playgrounds, at the grocery store, in the library,

and in the quiet, confined spaces of my home.

I know my daughter’s voice and tone when she says it,

the shades of her love as she embraces it with her tongue and teeth,

the small throat that issues the one-syllable sound.

I have found a name not wrong or hidden, but one that I wear openly

and that no one—no one—can take away from me.