Tell me again
about when I was born
and you dyed
your hair pink
so that everybody would know
that you were the happiest
woman in the world.
Tell me
about when you couldn't
stop smiling
because you knew
that I would be there waiting
when you came home from work.
Tell me
about when I called you “Mum”
for the first time
and I fell asleep
saying it over and over,
even the next morning
as soon as I opened my eyes.
Tell me again
about the day they told you
that there was something wrong with me,
that I would never walk
and that I would be
confined to a bed forever.
Tell me
about when I told you
that I didn’t care about the pain
because I always had you with me.
Tell me
about the times when I couldn’t even follow conversations
because of all the things they were giving me
so that I wouldn’t suffer
and the best thing in my life
was being able to look at you
and holding your hand tight.
Tell me again
about all those people
who say that we have to bear
whatever God gives us
but then take pills
for even the mildest headaches.
Tell me again
about the day I made up my mind
that I wasn’t born to spend my life in a bed
and that I was through with waking up
just to keep sleeping.
And tell me just one more time
about when I called you “Mum”
for the last time,
when I fell asleep
and I couldn’t
stop smiling,
taking the warmth of your hand
with me.