It’s the first snow of November, and you happened to cross my mind. It’s nice to know you’re still kicking. I’m proud of you. You did it! You overcame the hurdles and made sure you used those boots! I know you must still be hurting from wearing them every day. I know I am. I want you to know it’s okay. Those mistakes you made helped you get to where you are right now. You shouldn’t beat yourself up so much. I’m still your best friend. There’s no need to isolate yourself. I’m glad you put the beer down and bought the house. I feel a sense of fulfillment knowing you exist. I see you in my mind every day and aspire to be you. You’re who I’ve always wanted to be when I grew up.
I’m almost 30 now, but I’m still making some of the same mistakes. You’d be proud to know I’m on my way to you and what I’ve always wanted. Thanks for being patient. I feel like I can hold your hand. I can feel your existence and the sweet aroma of what is you. You can stop trying to be perfect now. I hope you never forget this moment. It’s okay to feel that hunger to grow continuously. You strive; that’s our thing. There will always be more, but that doesn’t mean that what you have right now is less. Smell the air, bask in it. We did it. If I haven’t said it today, I love you.
Awww Kenia, this is absolutely beautiful! You are right, it’s Ok to be hungry to grow and be better and want more. That’s how we discover all the greatness inside of us. Keep pushing. keep striving. You got this. <3 Lauren
What if I told you he took off my clothes like she did for you? If I told you he ignited a passion in me that I had forgotten about, would you survive it? If I told you I was bleeding as I wrote this, would you hand me a tissue or another beer? Comfort? I have left you out of sight and definitely in my mind. My thoughts now stream with anger like a river during a storm. It’s beautiful to see but difficult to endure. It takes everything with it, as you did to me. I’ve left the zone. No one called for help, even when I did. No one came. My tears are flooding the keyboard, like that river I told you about. I left you, my comfort, my zone. It hurt to leave as much as it hurt to stay. I laid my head here to sleep, my soul you kept and laughed as I wept. I felt your heartbeat close to mine, and even as we created love, I was the one who birthed it. I had to feed and care for my comfort. It bit me, and I bled. I wish you could hold me when I need it most, but the memories have turned me into a dustbowl of nothing. I can’t even take you with me. My winds have dwindled, and you have moved away from my desert. Don’t leave, don’t go. As far as comfort goes, this is home. The alcohol putrefied my veins after I convinced myself it was helping, distilling me and my impurities back to comfort. Even if it was for a minute, I wanted to taste your sweet sweat again. Salting my ocean, but really, it’s just your river, again.
Aww Kenia, Keep pushing forward. You know what is best for you whether it is comfortable or not. Keep fighting for your best and healthiest life. I am cheering you on every step of the way. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of The Unsealed family. <3 Lauren
I never took the time to thank you; You have carried me through these trials with patience.
I have bled, scarred, and rejuvenated under your tutelage.
I am grateful for your reminder to be better than the shadows that have always followed me so diligently; while darkness spread, you molded caves of truth. As you roamed in the deep crevices of my sentiments, you fabricated dimensions of safety. Cautiously translating those corrupted images into languages only you and I could ever comprehend.
Frankly, I am pained by the routes you have taken. These heels, carved with your roots, still seem to find their way through the trees. I turned a blind eye to the breadcrumbs of my ancestors while passing the familiar yet empty roadstead, only for the outcome to be the same. I am grateful for your beautiful insanity, courage, and your uniqueness.
Carefully cultivated on your terms, I carry your teachings with me as I do my mothers.
I stand forever indebted to you for never shielding me from opportunity.
Your passion has kept me in constant fruition. There is no one I would rather travel through this metamorphosis we call life. I may not have treated you with the fairness you deserved throughout these years.
You have never disregarded my tears.
You have used them to water my fears so I may face them with you by my side. You have demolished my dragons. Your sword has yielded my path towards greatness.
Someone once said that in unity, there is strength, and together we are one.
This matrix may be deadly, but all my strength has come from the cries of our wars.
I am she, you are me, and we are together. There is no “one” dream. I have many. I will keep pushing and shoving through the heavy waterfalls I blindly throw myself in.
I know now that the love I found within you, self, I am strong and can do it all.
Thank you.
This is a beautiful poem. Thanking the good within you for keeping you strong and encouraging you through all the trials and tribulations. Thank you for sharing your journey with the good within you
Dear mom,
I get it now. I understand the pain.
The regret before the regret. The desire for self-mastery.
But the failure of achievement creeps in like the sleepless nights you
encountered. The self-loathing in the shower. How tired were you? Truly. When Sis and I would fight over remotes while the kitchen
stove burned hot. How your bones must’ve
ached. Where did you find the patience? If so,
can I go to this place? Can you continue to
hold my hand through this? One day
we will all be ash. Somehow oblivion doesn’t
seem so scary looking through your eyes. The
eyes of a hero. My wolf queen. The creator of
us. Your power shines through our voices like
the howl of the moon. I love you. Thank you. I
get it now. The pain in your womb, the
emptiness that lies ahead when we walk our
separate paths, and I trip. You weren’t there to
catch me, and I can hear the fear in your voice.
I hear the echo of your worry ringing in me
when I close my eyes. I worry now too. When she leaves my
sight, even for a split second. I feel the emptiness. The loss of other parents. I feel their sorrow in every heartbeat until I see her again. This world is gross, mommy. You
showed me what it is to love purely. I call it
luck. I’ve seen the unfortunate events that
come with love. Love is pain. There’s beauty in
that. For you, I write. I print these letters with
the blood that came from my birth. With every breath,
these veins pulse with excitement to share the
truth. Your truth. What lies beneath the
umbilical whip of life. The nutrients of your
teachings. I carry them with me like a suitcase.
“Can’t leave home without it!” I always say.
Appreciate me. Know me. Love me. Take me
with you for protection, and I will be your pepper
spray. I will be the x on your map to treasures
unknown. I mark you 3×3 because I am you, and
you are me. We are we. Toes and hands alike.
Warriors against the ink that says we aren’t
worthy. We are not men. We are weak, they say. You
sure showed them! You are a legion of men.
Your strength carries me through every blink,
every inhale. Where did you find it? Where did
you get it? Is this another realm I do not know?
Can we visit it together? If there’s a road less
traveled, take me. Hold my hand as I hold
hers. Will I ever be able to fill your fuzzy socks? I aim to earn your title and wear it like a suit of armor. I hope to be the Matriarch you are to our clan. My dearest teacher, how can I part with you on this journey to your destination? In the end, we’ll all hold the batons. Dear mom. I get it now, I think.