She Taught Me to Be Human

As my mother’s birthday approaches,

I think of possible birthday gifts to celebrate

her presence in my life,

a handwritten note,

a video compilation,

a watercolor portrait,

a badly baked pastry,

all products of a creative process

mirroring the way

She brought me into this plane of existence.

Yet,

Our recent fight comes to the forefront of my mind

a reminder that my mother,

like the rest of us,

is human.

Not a Wonder Woman who has come to save the day

even though I grew up loving these heroes,

displaying their feats of strength

and superhuman abilities

Whose flaws were always so plainly obvious

with equally obvious solutions:

an obscure crystal here,

the occasional damsel-in-distress there.

These heroes never taught me

about navigating the complexity of growing up

of managing my emotions,

of putting up with disappointment,

of tackling my imposter syndrome

of learning to be true to myself,

even when others do not agree

My mother taught me

to wear these medals of hardship around my neck proudly

from my ABCs, till the day I flew out of the country.

Most times, giving me the time and space I need

to explore these very human experiences

through my own lens.

Her love, though transmitted by radio waves

and appearing as an icon on my computer screen

felt as real and alive

as the heart that beat within my chest.

My mother gave me freedom

liberating and sweet,

like the air I breathe.

So I take this gift,

and use it to bring light to the ones I love

hoping,

it might reach her too.

Holding out a hand in the darkness,

which she may find herself in

when all seems lost.

What they don’t tell you

is that mothers wade through pain and uncertainty

as much as we do.

Maybe even more.

The waves of crushing anxiety beating at their lungs,

closing in all at once.

So I toss a life vest to you, mom

Poetry is a rope in a storm,

pulling you to a place where you can love yourself

the way you have taught me.

Happy Birthday, Mom

22 June 2021