I Wish My Mother...

had lived until I found my true voice.

I Wish My Mother (1.0)

I wish my mother

had lived

until I found my true voice.

But

it was her death

that released it

and

allowed my voice to emerge.

Am I a clone of my mother?

Does my very existence

stifle

the true voices of my children?

Will they speak more freely

when I die?

Will that make dying

worth it?

Only after her death

did I find the words

to bridge the void

between us.

After she died,

I gained the patience to say words

and let them be,

without pushing

or getting frozen with guilt,

and fear,

and guilt and guilt,

eventually not caring.

I grieved

at not finding the words

while she was living.

I would have said:

STOP comparing me to others.

DROP your scrim of disappointment.

ALLOW yourself to see me.

Her passing set free my pent up-ness.

If she had lived another 20 years,

until she was 99,

Would I have found my words?

Did she have to die for me

to become patient and articulate?

Will I have to die

for my children to be free?

Will that make dying worth it?