Four childish eyes

Looking at their own child

Eight hands kept the baby standing

Wrinkly hands against smooth skin

Loved by six people

Raised by six parents

Two created her

Four her grandparents

All were equal parts

In shaping who she is today

She understood who she was

The result of teenage parenting

Mexican life

Frowns upon teenagers

American life

Frowns upon a Mexican girl

Those twelve hands never left her side

Those twelve arms embraced their baby

Crossing every day

Learning a new language

Cherishing the old one

All her six parents could do

Is listen to her talk a different way

Two new parents came in the picture

Her own had separated

She had new people to look up to

Now there was sixteen hands

It was too much to keep up

She had to let go of all those hands

Only her own could keep her up now

Those twelve hands never left me

Those twelve hands molded me

A mexican girl

An american life

I had to let go

Now there are only two of my own

Two hands to catch my fall

Twelve hands to pick me back up