Mothers

Mothers

Mothers

 

They are the closest things to god. 

 

Expected to be everybody else but themselves. 

 

How painful it is to understand that your mother is not just someone who gave birth to you, but she is a complex human being, experiencing life for the first time. She has felt pain and joy, lust, anger, grief, jealousy, and love, so much love or maybe not enough. Sometimes I imagine cradling my mum as a child, whispering “you are loved, you are more than what happened to you, you can be whoever you want to be, please believe in your magic”.

 

When we are born, we cannot distinguish between ourselves and the universe. If we are crying so too, is the world. When your mother is singing, that is also the sound of your own voice. Still, at twenty-two I cannot distinguish between my mothers’ voice and my own — her voice is mine, we speak in unison, we scream and shout together. We exist solely as a reflection of one another.

 

I want to be everything my mum is and more. I want to grow so much bigger and take her with me. I want to show her how much of the world she deserves.

 

MY MUM IS A GOD AND GOD SHE IS BEAUTIFUL. 

- Short Piece