Your name will be Marcus or Diwa,
or Isabella or Laya.
Though we would very much like you
to choose your own name,
we will do it for you
at least in the beginning.
Your cry upon your birth
shall be that of joy, and you will have a home
where there is no fear nor monsters under your bed;
no walls for you to face, no salt bed for you to kneel on.
Stories of summer afternoons, of flying kites,
paper-dolls, patintero and pikô shall be yours to keep.
No wound, no bruised knee shall remain unhealed;
your little voice shall always be heard,
your questions we will always try to answer.
They can never take you away from us-two mothers
and when you come to us asking why your name is so,
or how come, how come you do not have a father,
it would not matter.
It would not matter.
