She could never check a box with comfort.

“What am I, mom?”

Tick off the black. The white. The mix. The foreign. The alien one. Tick them all. Tick none.

Never belonging to the the sea. A passer by with eyes among the stars. Nobody doubted her call. But they did not know how far she would fly. Like butterflies, she disappeared in rainbow skies.

There was nothing to prove. Nothing owe nor left behind.

In love with the moon, she was his star. So she keeps on flying, orbiting, shining. Always surrounding the earth and observing from afar.

she writes