My Mother, My Poet

Sun, 07/03/2016 - 15:58 -- s.kim11

Young daughters appear to only see,

Whatever their mothers pretend to be. 

From childbirth to the age of fourteen,

I never felt unable to make ends meet.

I asked my mom if my friend could come over,

She said, "Of course," but with a slight stutter.

The shock that imbued me was so unexpected,

When she asked, "Have you ever felt ashamed or neglected?"

I replied with confusion and no understanding, 

What do you mean? This was upsetting. 

We live in a box and your friends do not care?

Our place may be small but they never stare.

Have you ever wished that you had more? 

I looked up at my mom and said, "What for?" 

These thoughts never consumed me until today,

I never knew my mother felt this way.

Was it innocence or ignorance that sheltered my mind? 

Or maybe it was stupidity that made me so blind? 

I always knew we did not have much, 

But my world was warm due to my mom's touch.

For almost twenty years, she raised me and my brother. 

6 days & 500 dollars a week, 

With a debt stacked to a mountain's peak. 

She cried behind closed doors and I never knew. 

She was always the most beautiful person in the room. 

Did she feel worthless? Did I not seem happy? 

I think back at my childhood feeling cheerful and free.

I love my mom more than anyone knows it,

My mom is my God, superhero, and poet.

I am at the age now where I can free her soul,

From the twenty years of weariness and cold. 

In just 5 or so years, I'll make her dreams come true. 

I'll give her comfort, peace, and grandchildren too.

She will be by my side and look up at me, 

Holding my hand and saying she's happy. 

I told my mom she has to live until 200,

Cause without her, my life isn't sacred.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world

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