My mother wasn’t born this strong.
No, her strength comes from years of labor.
Labor of the body,
Labor of the mind.
My mother’s shoulders are strong;
With the burden of her children’s words,
And the weight of her family.
With the buckets of tears that have soaked her clothes,
And with the grief of her husband she’s forced to carry around.
No, my mother wasn’t born strong,
But she was born for this role.
You came to me in a dream last night, as curious and full of life as the day I met you on the playground.
It was the first week of preschool and I had no friends, mostly because I chose not to.
I wake up and I’m suffocated by the love shoved down my throat.
Every inch of me feels no more than a piece of meat.
I am, in everyone’s eyes, insignificant in comparison to my owner,
It’s 10 pm; the moon trickles through the big window above my bed and I feel a strong hand rub my back. A sweet, familiar voice draws me awake and out of bed.
Comments
She sounds like such a woman 🫶🏼
Oh you know she is
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