“Never love anyone more than yourself,”
Mom always said that to me.
When it came to relationships,
she always saved 10% of herself.

That’s where I got it from—
my issues to trust,
to give, and to
fully envelop myself.

She taught me to be cautious of
those I let into my life—
those who held knives behind their backs
and drew me in with sweet words.

She also taught me to stay strong,
that even if people left my life,
I was never alone.

…

Ma had her own struggles.
She never talked about it openly,
not even to Dad.
She kept the facade of a strong woman
and rarely shared her vulnerability.

It made me feel so invalidated
in my own struggles.
I felt isolated because I thought
I wasn’t supposed to feel this way.
Since she never shared her experiences,
I never knew she too
suffered.

She did a hell of a good job at it though,
better than me.
When it came down to it,
she never cried.
Not even when the dog died.

She wasn’t much of an emotional woman.
“Crying is for the weak.”
The worst part is…
I believed her.

The only reason she felt this way
was because, as a young girl,
she was never to share
her wars.

But when I see her dance—
oh, she shines so bright.
Her radiating aura
surrounds her.
I can feel it.
In the flicker of her eye,
in the rasp of her laugh,
I can see it.
In the lines of her smile
and her white hairs.
She’s just as young as she was
yesterday,
and the day before,
all the way to the little girl she used to know.

She’s everything she claims not to be…
Human