I love mama, here,

in this old photo before --


she became mama.

Her dreams didn’t die all at once.
They faded like a body losing warmth
quietly, while the water boiled
and someone called her name
from the other room.

She tells you to chase yours
because she didn’t.
Because she stayed
with a man, with a family,
with the version of herself
that always came second.

She was just like you.
Sharp in the mind,
soft in the places
no one thought to protect.
She gave too much
because no one taught her
she was allowed to keep anything.

That’s why she says,
“Never compromise.”
Not because she’s brave,
but because she remembers
how it felt to hand over pieces of herself
and be thanked for it.

You remind her
of the girl she buried
under laundry and prayer.
You speak too loudly sometimes,
and she doesn’t stop you.
You leave rooms without apologizing,
and she watches
half grief, half awe.

You are
her unfinished sentence.
The better ending
she never wrote.

And still,
she’s praying
not for herself anymore,
but that this world
won’t ask you to shrink
just to fit inside it.

Don’t give up.
Because if you do,
then all she gave up
will have been for nothing

glass jars aren't safe anymore so we'll throw them all away

forgetting the words for that thing
in that place
that keeps everything cold

chips but they aren't chips
the see through white cereal
that place we went where they had the big and little things

watching her blink, and wonder what will disappear next

the softest bits of brain hardening
turning black, burning
ash separating and slowly floating up

found deep in the woods by vultures circling above

sent from god, they said
god in the form of vultures helped us find her
god is good

"when do you think I'll die?" she asked
"how long do you think I have?"

and I think, who will be my mother

To all the daughters with a father —
How does it feel to live my dream?
To wake up with both parents under one roof,
To know what it means to feel protected?

Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers —
And Happy Father’s Day to the mothers, too.
The ones who had to step up in a father’s place,
Who fought silent battles,
And carried the weight of both roles.

To those mothers —
Don’t forget: it’s not your fault.
It’s their loss, not yours.
Thank you —
For taking the place they abandoned,
For giving your all while grieving your own loss,
For standing tall when you weren’t sure you could.

I hear things
that I can never quite discern.
I know there is a life beyond this
but is it better,
or worse?

What is that life like?
I wonder and marvel
at the things
my forming mind
conjures up.

I know I will see her face,
she has already told them about me.
I think she loves him-
but sometimes, late at night
I feel her tremble and sob…

I don’t know why
she does everything she does-
but she will be wonderful
because she is mine.
Although she cannot protect me from all.

So still I fear,
the coldness of the world
she shivers within-
that I know I shall fear,
so I lie still
and count my days.

Dear Mom,
Have you forgotten?

Sitting, waiting, hoping

Where did you go, Mom?
Did I do something wrong?

Lost, lonely, sad

Are you really gone, Mom?
I waited...
I'm with my grandparents now, Mom.
I have a room now.
Are you there, Mom?
Can you hear me?

Tired, crushed, defeated

Started school again.
It's my birthday, Mom!
It's okay, I don't need a birthday card.

Broken, lacking, sorrowful

Broke an ankle, Mom.
Got a school award.
Are you happy?

Undefined, sinking, heartbroken

Went to the school dance, Mom.
Had my first relationship!
Do you miss us, Mom?

Warped, torn, tangled

You're really gone now.
Why?
I'm moving on now, Mom.
I miss you.
I love you.
Goodbye.