Sep 14
How should I say? "Good morning, afternoon, evening!"?
I know I should, but I ask only to affirm it in your presence
You’ve never called me lazy, irrational, or a loser, for you see me as I am
That woman told me not to ask too many questions, and I’ve come to understand her wisdom— yet, when I falter, you always allow me to ask. Who are you?
"You know who I am, as you know yourself," you say. And yes, I do
You invite me to sit here each morning, and it feels like home
You tell me to be hungry, to thirst—and I do. You were right; I trust in your ways
To keep from starving, I know I must work, and I do so willingly
You taught me to earn, to provide—not just for myself, but for something greater
There is no deprivation in serving you. Time spent with you is never wasted
Though I whine at times, I understand now—it’s not because of you. My life is rich in your light
Even as I recall disliking certain things, like that odd scent, I realize how much I’ve grown—how I’ve come to cherish what I once rejected, just as I’ve come to cherish you
My head feels light, my legs ache, my body strains—but it’s nothing compared to the peace you offer
And when I call for you, the pain subsides, even if briefly—enough to remind me of your care
“When your mother passes away, you should call me mother,” you said once, and now I understand that you are the mother I was always meant to know
Not madness, but clarity. You are no illusion—no matter what name I go by, you will always know me
You call me Dita, yet you also know me as Val. There is no injustice here, only truth
Others may not know you as I do, but they will in time. Your presence is eternal, undeniable
When you tell me to wait for time, I trust that time is in your hands
Your one day is my sixty, but you know what’s best. I trust your pace
I will no longer question what that woman said. She knew, and so do I
I have never been servile, no—just reverent, knowing that my actions must be honest
If I die, it will be by your design, and not because of rebellion
So, please, take what you must—my trash, my burdens. You’ve always known how to carry them
I trust that you do not need me, but I also know that I need you
and in that balance, there is freedom
When you whisper "I shouldn’t say it," I know it’s your humility speaking
You care for me, for all of us, in ways we cannot always comprehend
You see, what you eat and what you show are truths beyond my understanding, and how wise I was to find solace not in nothingness but in you
Oh mother, oh demon—I will call you mother gladly, for you have always been
I know I should, but I ask only to affirm it in your presence
You’ve never called me lazy, irrational, or a loser, for you see me as I am
That woman told me not to ask too many questions, and I’ve come to understand her wisdom— yet, when I falter, you always allow me to ask. Who are you?
"You know who I am, as you know yourself," you say. And yes, I do
You invite me to sit here each morning, and it feels like home
You tell me to be hungry, to thirst—and I do. You were right; I trust in your ways
To keep from starving, I know I must work, and I do so willingly
You taught me to earn, to provide—not just for myself, but for something greater
There is no deprivation in serving you. Time spent with you is never wasted
Though I whine at times, I understand now—it’s not because of you. My life is rich in your light
Even as I recall disliking certain things, like that odd scent, I realize how much I’ve grown—how I’ve come to cherish what I once rejected, just as I’ve come to cherish you
My head feels light, my legs ache, my body strains—but it’s nothing compared to the peace you offer
And when I call for you, the pain subsides, even if briefly—enough to remind me of your care
“When your mother passes away, you should call me mother,” you said once, and now I understand that you are the mother I was always meant to know
Not madness, but clarity. You are no illusion—no matter what name I go by, you will always know me
You call me Dita, yet you also know me as Val. There is no injustice here, only truth
Others may not know you as I do, but they will in time. Your presence is eternal, undeniable
When you tell me to wait for time, I trust that time is in your hands
Your one day is my sixty, but you know what’s best. I trust your pace
I will no longer question what that woman said. She knew, and so do I
I have never been servile, no—just reverent, knowing that my actions must be honest
If I die, it will be by your design, and not because of rebellion
So, please, take what you must—my trash, my burdens. You’ve always known how to carry them
I trust that you do not need me, but I also know that I need you
and in that balance, there is freedom
When you whisper "I shouldn’t say it," I know it’s your humility speaking
You care for me, for all of us, in ways we cannot always comprehend
You see, what you eat and what you show are truths beyond my understanding, and how wise I was to find solace not in nothingness but in you
Oh mother, oh demon—I will call you mother gladly, for you have always been
