Preciously Promised

Profoundly Missed

Photo by Liv Bruce on Unsplash

When you held me in your arms for the first time on that hospital bed — joy consuming you — you made a promise.

You made a promise to yourself — the promise to give me the world.

You made a promise to me — 
the promise of protection.
Protection from the evil eye
Protection from injustice
Protection like a wall, like a moat, like a lioness, like the Queen.

You promised me freedom. 
You promised I would find passion.

You promised to fight for me.
And to teach me to fight for myself.
And for everyone else.

As years went, you nourished me
With the blood of your promise
With the strength of your soul
With every fibre of your heart.

You set out to give me the world you had promised.
You had not known how hard it would be.
To keep your promises you were prepared to do anything.
Anything except die.

Anything except die.

All too soon, when I held you with my eyes for the last time on that hospital bed — sorrow consuming me — I realized your promise.

Only to be seen it being broken into a million bits in the next moment.

Had you broken your promise,
Or had the promise broken you?
Sometimes, I cannot help but wonder.

As I pick up the pieces of the broken promise, 
I become weak as I realize the strength you had.

And I feel proud.
I feel proud to have had the mother I had.

Inspired by Terijo’s thought-provoking prompt, Broken Promises: