In this enclosed fabricated world, through pain and tears,

She always smiled and kept her angelic composure.

Her warmth, her touch, 

And all the unsaid words that somehow were always enough,

Kept others from knowing what was hidden within.

Her walk of grace,

No matter what she would face

It would also show that she would be fit to stand in any place.

She was smiling because,

She did not know if it was her mother’s soft cooking that embraced her with this overflow of

appreciation or, 

A wave of melodramatic sensation,

That she wanted to hold onto forever.

Longing for this wish and it was as if

She could detach a piece of her mother and make a piece of another

Of her,

For me.

So that the world would see

Her little gestures of care were like no other,

That kept her safe from all the world’s dangerous wonders. 

She learned life isn’t about focusing on what’s hidden,

But it’s about focusing on what is written.

And as she would say

“From the Almighty to you”,

And that was enough proof,

That “take one and pass it on” was not just about the papers in class

But focusing on the gifts you have, 

And sharing that present with another.

That is what I learned from my mother.

From being the caregiver to the receiver

She was like no other.