When my father died,
the elders gave the sons all he had.
I was one of the daughters,
I got nothings.
It was heavy in my heart.
Am I a child not worth receiving part of his heritage?
I also needed part to make life,
But I got none.
They had it all.
They shared the valuable, set to destroy the rest.
Out of the ones set to be destroyed.
I found a pen, old almost finished
Also a book of few leaves.
I picked them up.
I went to sit, watching them burn others.
I picked the pen and paper to write nothing in precise.
Suddenly I realized I was writing a thought.
I allowed it to flow to it end.
I am not in others
Families so close, I am not in them.
Friends so dear, I am not in them.
Well-wishers so kind, I am not in them.
Even enemy so wicked, I am not in them.
I am in myself.
And it is on me to make myself the beauty I admire.
The glory I love to shine.
The greatness I admire.
I am the responsibility of me to be the best of me.
To conquer my challenge.
To be happy.
For what they call destiny is what I make out of my life.
I finished that thought and moved to another.
Then to another and on.
By the time the fire was down,
I have covered three leaves with different thoughts.
I had not thought of them before.
They came as I write.
As I wrote, it was like a fire was light in me.
Joy rose in my spirit.
There the pain of not getting any portion died.
I felt there was more in me than all not gotten.
I love the idea.
Then I put pen to paper again.
Another set of idea came in line in my mind.
There I found myself.
I am born to write.
Then I let go from my mind all they got.
And took responsibility of my found self.
I got what they had not gotten
They got heritage, I found myself
No heritage is greater.