Mother’s Daughter


I am my mother’s daughter

and by that, I don’t mean
I have her grace, no,
I don’t mean that at all,
in fact, I have none.

I don’t have her strength
or her faith or her
unbending will--
she gives too much
to too many
while all I ever do is
take.

But I digress;

I am my mother’s daughter
because she never shows
signs of weakness
and I’ve learned
to only bleed
internally.

I am my mother’s daughter
because when she gets on a plane,
she imagines all the ways
a person could die
in the air;
and I tell her she’s silly
as I imagine all the ways
a person could die
in their worries.

I am my mother’s daughter
because when the sun sets
and the lights are dimmed,
our breath gets short.

I am my mother’s daughter
and the voices in our heads
may speak in different tongues
but they are still voices
just the same.

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