It’s the spark in my mom’s eyes,
when the family arrives.
It’s the photo my dad is taking, of us
having dinner.
It’s my sister picking her outfit, doing her makeup.  
It’s my aunties singing and laughing in the kitchen.
It’s the cozy and cheesy decoration I picked.
It’s the loveliest mess,
The warmest season of all.
While all the gifts are by the tree,
the greatest, is just being here.
Let me just be here.
One more Christmas.
One more year.

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.