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.