A poem for my mother,
Seems almost too grand, too precious to
Solely place on parchment.
Watch as I etch my love for her across the night sky-each tear she shed holding me tight, catching me as I fell, praying for my health, loving me from afar-each tear, I name a star, for her love is wider, endless like the night sky:
A bundle of joy, smelling of sweet pine and lemon, blooming and nurtured in a life feeding on chaos, I could have faltered, fell with Lucifer’s ease-If it were not for you Mother. A Mother takes her flesh, round and bursting with magic and life, and selflessly gives it to her child, her tears silent as we take out first breath.
I knew I was a handful-small and wrinkled, slimy and screaming, but I was yours, your baby, your gift sent directly from God- how can one doubt the Lord when there is such miracles like times like this? Your love kept my heart beating, your words of love gave breath to my lungs as my screams pierced the air.
Your little Princess with scraped knees and wild hair, I knew I was a handful- refusing to wear skirts, always dirty, and unafraid of adventure, I must have given you some fright. But those memories I hold dearest to my heart, for I watched you struggle, the tears you shed, the love that bled profusely for me. Such tender words are almost foreign to me, how am I, soft and still growing, tell you, this warrior woman, that everything thing will be okay?
Puberty-well I knew for a fact that I was a handful. All these unwarranted emotions flooded through me day and night- I could no longer sleep peacefully, tears clogging my throat and I did not know why. We fought with such animalistic rage, so hurtful…I was no longer the happy girl, no longer the baby girl from your flesh, I became my own woman as we shouted and cried- a woman that I needed to learn, a woman that was foreign and too strange.
I am a full woman now, school always on my mind, my future beating too close to my heart, my head straight and my eyes lucid but I know I am still a handful. It’s a scary world out there and I’m still, strangely, your baby. When I put my big girl pants on, your breathe must catch in your throat- to see how far I’ve become and how much more growing I still have to go.
Well, I just want to say, you need not worry, you raised me right.
I love you, mommy.