I am like a strand of pearls
(they used to look so lonely sitting on my mother’s dresser)
something she only wore on special occasions
to make her face look brighter
when she smiled.
I was supposed to be a diamond
but my mother got me instead…
a quiet pearl that likes to stay in her shell —
whose eyes light up to natures small gifts
(things no one bothers to notice)
like a hummingbird, and a butterfly
dancing in the sun.
My mother doesn’t understand
the language of a pearl.
She’s only fluent in diamonds –
and, I cannot change who I am.