Mother Mother


Next to ‘strength’ in my dictionary
is a diagram of my mother’s heart.

She is unwavering, unflinching, unbreakable. 

The character to which I measure myself.
The mold which I squirm around in.
The strength I aspire to.

But once,
I watched her face contort
as she listened to my sister’s worries.
Her heart wavered.

But once,
I caught her as a tear rolled down her face
at the music lamenting the loss of her soul mate.
Her heart flinched.

But once,
I saw her cry in front of me
as she asked why I cried alone.
Her heart broke.

And just like that,
I saw a piece of my heart,
embedded within her own.

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