I wanted to cry
As I saw my mom’s mug—
Broken.

She was so sad,
So she fixed it.
It was a mug from Italy,
I brought it to her
as a souvenir once.  

She was so sad,
As if she brought it
herself,
She lingered.

I wanted to cry
As  I realised—
She got to see
Some places
Only through my eyes.

I wished,
I hoped,
Someday I can
Carry her with me
To every place she ever dreams.

Just glimpses of what it used to be
Second-hand memories, faded reflections
of the golden years.
It’s a different tomorrow.
I feel scammed and hollow.
This is not what was promised.
I am a grownup now—
Translation of
     Years hoarding sorrow—

My mom is at the edge of tears
Every time the situation is mentioned
I have to be strong
Because she can’t crumble
I have to be strong
Because It’s my turn
I want to be strong
Because it’s my turn
I need to be strong
Because she’s everyone’s rock
I will be strong
Because I am her rock.

I saw strength—
Arms that once held me,
Protected me
Turned into fragility:

The weakened shadow
Of the bravest man.—

I saw and I stood
Powerless,
Tears holding,
fears hounding.

I stood powerless,
wanting to give
some of my years
To the one heart
that gave me
Everything.

And I still remember every Christmas.
how I was hopeful, longing,
For what life had to offer.
I dreamed of love—
And how I would flourish in it.

It’s in my soul—
Like flesh pierced
By the glass-shaped pain
Sharp and raw.

Nobody knows how to help

I try to remove them,
the shattered memories
Each sharp shard
Lacerating my insides,
Tearing my spirit,
Pain echoing in flesh.

A ****** mess, I get more hurt.

Same old same,
Everything I touch,
stained—
with overflowing emotions,
Red, heavy, thick
Intense—  

It’s a deeper wound.
Larger than myself.
It keeps cutting.
It keeps tearing.
My Faith.