What do I pack?

I woke up, opening my eyes to the blazing sun

I sat up and remembered what I had done

"Pick one thing to take with you," the prompt said

"What is it? Or should I say, who?"

I contemplated the LifeStraw, to sate my pragmatic side

Then a book or journal to read while I lay supine

But I remembered in these times the greatest difficulty

To reject barbaric tendencies even when they're no longer found faulty.

And the only way to feel genuinely human, to aid this,

Is to bring along a companion who you can kiss

She's the one whose laugh spreads a warmth through your body

One who embraces and finds the good even within oddies.

My choice is quite trite, as you can probably infer

But there's a reason for why we choose and prefer

Our mothers who love us to the moon and back

So I say the latter question was correct,

Not a symbol of erudition, not a fish hook and a string

But someone who encompasses, who to me, is everything

Who has a master's degree in navigating life

Who can avoid and aid situations that lead to strife

And even when I'm not stranded on an island

I still need this person with me when I'm cryin'

When I'm overjoyed and infuriated, she has my back

And that's how I know, my mom, she’s all I have to pack.