Growing up, I remember an oft-quoted and much-beloved phrase of my fathers’: the pen is mightier than the sword. As a child, it used to conjure up visions of a battlefield where a soldier on foot with a pen in hand would strike down the enemy-soldier riding his horse waving a sword in hand! Well, that was the literal imagery in the eyes of a young child, but with time, of course, I began to understand the phrase for more than its literal sense.
My father knew a thing or two about the power of the pen, I suppose. The power it had to convey an idea without getting lost in trivial banter; the power it had to persuade one to see another’s point of view; the power it had to win a battle without resorting to blows; the power it had to offer hope in the darkest hour; the power it had to comfort, console and sustain one’s spirit in the mere offering of a few lines; the power it had to give and receive love even without uttering one audible word. Such was the power of the pen — just as fierce as a sword, only so much more meaningful! (I later also realized that my father’s love of the pen might have been in small measure due to his use of it to write one letter a day to his wife across the oceans for a year and half.)
Well, over the years, I have myself realized my love of the pen, and have tried to instill it into my children. It therefore came as not so great a surprise yesterday when I stumbled on to a hand-written poem in an old notebook in the back of my bedside drawer. It was written by my firstborn, then all of seven years old and a brand-new second grader. My surprise and sheer joy came from the words that her pen (pencil, actually!) had marked — onto the lined paper, and also directly onto my heart! I doubt if even a sword could have carved so deep a line into the very core of my heart…
Here’s the poem titled simply “Mom”. Today, she is all-grown up and just as fierce and charming with her pen.
Mom
Mom, you help me with my homework
And you make me have fun
You’re a very special person
And you’re not like everyone.
I know you’re very busy
Going to work and cooking meals
You always keep your promise
And you make good deals.
You read me books
You read me stories
You even buy me stuffed animals
That are called Roaries.
You tell me the right thing to do, and help me find pretty shells
And Mom, your voice sounds like a million bells.
You are very nice and really kind
And you have an intelligent mind.
You cheer for me
And say, “Hooray, Hooray!”
And you tuck me in bed
Every single day.
Mom, I hope you enjoyed this rym (sic)
Mom, you’re all mine!
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