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our moms were the first we saw when we were brought to this world. when everything else seemed foggy at first, only the sense of familiarity for your mother could guide us through our first few seconds on this earth. how could i have ever hated such a person, someone who guided and raised me with so much unconditional dedication and love, someone who i haven't gone a single day living without, someone who surely abandoned a part of herself in order to become my mother. oh mama do you know how much you mean to me, you are quite literally the light of my day, you are the one who raised me from some illiterate fool to who i am today, you who defined my faults to my strengths.
now i am taller and heavier than you, now i have grown more youthful than you were, now i am forced to hug you kneeling down, now you who carried me in your strong arms have began to tuck your slacken arms over your waist. the role of mother will surely come to restrict me soon just like it did on you, it will sap away my mind and turn me into a doctile, soft woman. i will gladly accept it though, for you have done the same for me.
Taking up space
In my early teens I came across a spoken word poetry video about a young woman at university who goes back to visit her family. She speaks about the changes she notices. Her father getting bigger and bigger and occupying more space. She noticed how her mother seemed to be getting smaller making space for her father.
The artist presented her art in such a way that it stayed with me. I didn't fully understand the poem. I liked it but could not make sense of what it was trying to say. Or maybe I knew what it was talking about but did not really understand it.
Recently I've been thinking about this poem. I couldn't find the video. I wanted to rewatch. I feel like I finally get it. The enlarging. The shrinking. The making of space. It feels like a never ending cycle. The inevitable. The "its-only-a-matter-of-time".
It scares me a lot.
- L