Small Voices of Elegance

I guess you can say 

I want to be like her,

my mother,

fill in all the gaps in my life 

she wanted me to fill,

put my foot down & 

try as hard as she always 

wanted me to.

I guess you can say

I’m the result of all her prayers,

the dreams 

she always had, but

never got the chance to see it happen.

My mother, 

the author of

every poetic piece of wisdom I have & grew up

repeating like mantras,

all short stories mirroring 

the light of mother’s poetic poems

lives on while I stand in the mirror 

reciting them like chants,

cheering on my favorite team.

I guess you could say

that I was always the team 

my mother cheered for &

that I was her favorite,

so therefore

by cheering myself on 

using her own words of wisdom

I’m still able to root for the home team.

I’d like to think

that someday

I could be more like her,

someone who showed pure elegance,

intelligent beyond her years,

an ability to forgive and forget

while not forgetting where she came from &

being proud of it,

all of which are qualities I lack.

Small voices whispering

secret constellations,

her sacred jewels shining brightly

to remind me she’s never too far away

always & forever in the night skies.

captured in the eyes 

of the moon’s daughter

mental polaroids 

forever cherished in the keepsake 

my mother had always held dearest,

left here saying prayers 

like princesses making wishes on the evening star or

when I was a child frolicking in a field of dandelions

whispering all my wishes that were too heavy

for the stars in the sky 

with even the strongest glow

blowing them into the wind

hoping their seedling angels would

hear & grant them.

I guess you can say

because of her

my mother

I’m able to see the world

as it could be,

a daydream 

that she took part in that & 

I am taking part in,

that you can take part in.