My rising sun
That flower suits you, Mommy,
you said, when I plucked the bloom from the surface of the water,
as I carried you on my back,
your long, slender legs wrapped around
my thick middle,
slim, delicate fingers wrapped around
my strong shoulders.
How so?
The colors, they remind me of you.
White
You make me feel safe,
you said, when a nameless dread made your young heart shiver.
Yellow
I just want to be near you,
you said, when your thoughts grew too dark and you needed light.
Frayed.
I’m sorry your body hurts all the time, Mommy.
I’m sorry I can’t do all the things you wish I could, too.
My daughter, as you greet the end of your first decade,
there’s something I want you to know.
I have walked the path you now stumble down,
lost myself in feelings too strong and strange,
wept from depths I didn’t know were there before.
I have felt
all wrong,
left out,
alone.
But, I was not,
and neither are you,
I hope you know.
I wish I could tell you
life will be easier
after these terrible tweens.
But, my love,
it would be cruel to lie.
I can’t promise your
teens,
twenties,
or thirties
will sail smoothly;
I can’t say they did for me.
But, each era brought me closer to knowing and loving
myself,
almost as much as I love
you.
I plucked this flower from the ground and asked you to hold it,
because it reminded me of you.
Bright pink
I love that you love to read and to learn,
your vibrant mind is a gift to the world.
Sunrise
Make mistakes, but keep trying, keep striving,
nothing is fixed, every day is brand new,
and you,
my daughter,
are the sun
rising.
