Mom

I’ve suffered for as long as a can remember from a pain that seemed to be subdued and barely visible, even to the trained eye. When I opened the gates to the buoyant wilderness of my heart, it became sharp, clear, unpolluted by your name. I cried good cries a lot, until the tears became saltier. I had it contained for so long it spoke to me in your voice and I diligently listened. Raspy at first, my own voice is now taking over and it strikes me with its strength, and I cry tears of joy now. My body caries the marks of a silent abuse, and I’ve hated it for so long for it didn’t belong to me. It was an armor, a polished shell, a sculpture shaped by unconsciousness itself. Mine. Yours. The breath that couldn’t travel deep, the feelings that couldn’t be felt, the arms that were never held. It is now my overflowing cup, my rebel vehicle, my untamed and beautiful self.