It was Monday morning and
I was passing the big statue
In the lobby of Johns Hopkins hospital
Searching for Room 202,
The first interview with Mrs. Willis
She had kind smile on her lips
Her hands were wrinkled with red nail polish
Mrs. Willis looked me in the eyes,
How do I pronounce your name, dear?
I said, MAH NAZ,
The exact same way it’s written
Mrs. Willis with her MS degree said, I’ll try
MENAZ Manos, Maha-noss
Then gently she changed her voice and
Said, Can I call you Mary?
Marry? Merry? Morry? Echoed in my head
I felt like evaporating morning dew,
Like a branch of a tree under heavy rain,
Like a fruit just fallen from a tree
I looked Mrs. Willis in the eyes and said,
“But my name is the charm of the moon
The name I was called by my mother
And by the man with black hair
Dark mustache and brown eyes.
Mrs. Willis was looking at me
With wide open eyes”
I said: Mrs. Willis:
" is my name more difficult
Than Deoxyribonucleic acid?"
I am one of those people who resited name change when moved to US long time ago, I wrote this poem to show my feelings towars my given name.