I Wanted To Change My Name Poem by Sol Valeria

She taught me to draw my name when I was three years old.

The first thing I ever wrote was the word I am called.

So I made sure to practice it all over the place;

The walls, tables, floor and doors,

With the crayons she'd always organized in a little box.



Then I grew up a few inches,

And she took me to school.

The teacher said the list of names outloud,

But mine was never mentioned twice.



Later in fifth grade,

My nicknames multiplied.

'Why can't you pick your own name? ' I thought.

That's a very important thing in life.



I wanted to change my name,

And I wanted to cross it out.

'It's strange and rare.' They laughed.

It was now blemished with their derides.



I got home frowning and crossing my arms.

'What was she thinking? ' I wondered outloud.

She poured me a glass of lemonade and looked down at me,

Answering my question evanescently:



'The sun is just one and it shines all the time,

The truth is that you can't hide it behind the clouds.

I wouldn't have called you something that was already made up,

I called you something that would never get lost.'



It took all my childhood for me to understand;

The special thing about my name isn't the letters it has.

It's what Mama said that evening; why she chose it for me.

Like sweet lemons, it's a piece of her that I'll always keep.