My mother loved me.

Something I told myself

When her struggles with life

Translated into my struggles with life.


She believed in me.

Sometimes I could tell that

When my accomplishments

Translated into her accomplishments.


My mother needed me.

Always I could feel that

When my need for something

Translated into her need for me

To love her,

To believe in her,

To need her.


My mother did love me.

Something I still tell myself

When I remember her struggle to be a person

That surely translates into my own.

I need to remember

To keep my search in my own heart;

To avoid making my daughter a part of that.

To let her be.

A part of me,

And yet



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