#amotherslove - Hello Poetry

1 year, 9 months, and 21 days Since your spirit took off it's glove Finally free and released from pain. Today I can say The times I cry for you have become fewer. More are the days I remember you sweetly And love you fondly. Your hugs Your smiles Your voice Your questions Your teasing Your playful humor Intelligence and keen wit. Thank you For the joy that fills my heart. Thank you for the tears Of sweet sorrow that graced my cheeks Thank you for Opening the door of serenity. Allowing and letting go, I find myself full circle Embracing our love with joy. I loved you then I love you now I love you forever. I am grateful That you were in my life. Thank you for being a part of my life. I will always remember you With a joyful & grateful heart. I love you son, Mom

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Jan 22, 2019

Jan 22, 2019 at 5:17 PM UTC

KeiyaT

A Measure of Serenity

1 year, 9 months, and 21 days Since your spirit took off it's glove Finally free and released from pain. Today I can say The times I cry for you have become fewer. More are the days I remember you sweetly And love you fondly. Your hugs Your smiles Your voice Your questions Your teasing Your playful humor Intelligence and keen wit. Thank you For the joy that fills my heart. Thank you for the tears Of sweet sorrow that graced my cheeks Thank you for Opening the door of serenity. Allowing and letting go, I find myself full circle Embracing our love with joy. I loved you then I love you now I love you forever. I am grateful That you were in my life. Thank you for being a part of my life. I will always remember you With a joyful & grateful heart. I love you son, Mom

35

Leti, my Leti my beautiful little girl your smile so big and happy your hair dark and full of curls. Leti, my Leti my precious little girl So full of life, so full of love you're everything that's ever mattered My entire world. Leti, my Leti Life, without you, has no meaning The days never end. But I push forward, waiting... for that day in heaven... Waiting for that day I will see you again.

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May 5, 2015

May 5, 2015 at 10:37 PM UTC

angel-ann-fulford

Leti, My Leti

Leti, my Leti my beautiful little girl your smile so big and happy your hair dark and full of curls. Leti, my Leti my precious little girl So full of life, so full of love you're everything that's ever mattered My entire world. Leti, my Leti Life, without you, has no meaning The days never end. But I push forward, waiting... for that day in heaven... Waiting for that day I will see you again.

15

*My heart pumps out Love. I cannot stop giving into it. Motherhood is my Veil. My heart pumps out Love. It lands like pollen. Sticks to everything. I thought, that was as it should be, that my love would leave it's mark. Not easy to brush away. But it's not that way. My love, though beautiful, need not latch on to be potent. My heart pumps out Love. Better as a gentle breeze. To rise up as a cooling wave. Invisible and unconditional.* Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.

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Sep 4, 2015

Sep 4, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC

ChristiMichaels

My Heart

*My heart pumps out Love. I cannot stop giving into it. Motherhood is my Veil. My heart pumps out Love. It lands like pollen. Sticks to everything. I thought, that was as it should be, that my love would leave it's mark. Not easy to brush away. But it's not that way. My love, though beautiful, need not latch on to be potent. My heart pumps out Love. Better as a gentle breeze. To rise up as a cooling wave. Invisible and unconditional.* Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.

18

i watch you rockin' and noddin' my heart swoons rockin' and noddin' that's all your body can do blood inside your sleeves puke and **** on the floor my mama heart my mama heart your precious heart this mama heart can't take no more Copyright © 2017. Christi Michaels. MoonFlower Fluer de Luna All Rights Reserved.

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Feb 2, 2017

Feb 2, 2017 at 3:54 AM UTC

fleurdeluna

rockin' and noddin'

i watch you rockin' and noddin' my heart swoons rockin' and noddin' that's all your body can do blood inside your sleeves puke and **** on the floor my mama heart my mama heart your precious heart this mama heart can't take no more Copyright © 2017. Christi Michaels. MoonFlower Fluer de Luna All Rights Reserved.

16

Hijo, Ay Hijo By Jiovannie Martinez The earth has been eating my heart for years, one grain of silence at a time. My hands no longer feel like hands, but claws, scarred by the grit of a thousand false leads and the cold indifference of men who told me all I could do was to go home and pray. But prayers do not dig. Prayers do not sift through the salt and the rot to find the pieces of a life that were thrown away like trash. Prayers do not bring the son that I should have cherished far more than I ever did back into my hands, which are now too scarred and calloused to hold you like they once did. Today, the dirt under my fingernails feels like the only thing that is real. I remember the weight of you as a baby, the soft, heavy heat of your head against my collarbone. Now, the weight I find is different. It is light. It is hollow. My shovel strikes something that isn't a stone, and the world stops breathing. I drop to my knees, not to worship, but because my legs have finally turned to water. I brush away the silt with trembling fingers, and there it is; the small, jagged curve of your jaw, the same one that used to break into a grin when you saw me through the window. There is a scrap of cloth here, too, stained the color of dried blood and old rain. I recognize the thread. I remember the night I stayed up late to mend that sleeve, humming a song to keep the shadows back. I thought I was protecting you then. I thought a mother’s love was a shield, but the drug war turned the world into a sieve, and you slipped through the holes. You weren't a soldier or a statistic; you were my boy who liked his coffee too sweet and always forgot his keys. I pull your bones to my chest, and the dust smears across my face like a cruel blessing. My sisters from the collective stand over me, their shadows long and weeping, but I am alone in this hole with what remains of my soul. They tried to erase you, to turn you into a secret kept by the soil. But I have unburied the truth. It is a cold, quiet victory. I have found you, my son, but Dios perdoname (God help me), I have found you far too late Mi Hijo Ayy Mi Pobrecito Hijo Que te hicieron? (My Son Ohhh my poor son What did they do to you?)

0

Feb 10

Feb 10, 2026 at 12:08 AM UTC

APoorCowboy

Ay Hijo, Mi pobrecito Hijo

Hijo, Ay Hijo By Jiovannie Martinez The earth has been eating my heart for years, one grain of silence at a time. My hands no longer feel like hands, but claws, scarred by the grit of a thousand false leads and the cold indifference of men who told me all I could do was to go home and pray. But prayers do not dig. Prayers do not sift through the salt and the rot to find the pieces of a life that were thrown away like trash. Prayers do not bring the son that I should have cherished far more than I ever did back into my hands, which are now too scarred and calloused to hold you like they once did. Today, the dirt under my fingernails feels like the only thing that is real. I remember the weight of you as a baby, the soft, heavy heat of your head against my collarbone. Now, the weight I find is different. It is light. It is hollow. My shovel strikes something that isn't a stone, and the world stops breathing. I drop to my knees, not to worship, but because my legs have finally turned to water. I brush away the silt with trembling fingers, and there it is; the small, jagged curve of your jaw, the same one that used to break into a grin when you saw me through the window. There is a scrap of cloth here, too, stained the color of dried blood and old rain. I recognize the thread. I remember the night I stayed up late to mend that sleeve, humming a song to keep the shadows back. I thought I was protecting you then. I thought a mother’s love was a shield, but the drug war turned the world into a sieve, and you slipped through the holes. You weren't a soldier or a statistic; you were my boy who liked his coffee too sweet and always forgot his keys. I pull your bones to my chest, and the dust smears across my face like a cruel blessing. My sisters from the collective stand over me, their shadows long and weeping, but I am alone in this hole with what remains of my soul. They tried to erase you, to turn you into a secret kept by the soil. But I have unburied the truth. It is a cold, quiet victory. I have found you, my son, but Dios perdoname (God help me), I have found you far too late Mi Hijo Ayy Mi Pobrecito Hijo Que te hicieron? (My Son Ohhh my poor son What did they do to you?)

17