Two Pillars of My Heart

“A Tribute to the Love and Strength of Mum and Dad”

You were always there,

long before I ever knew the shape of the world,

before I could speak my own name,

before I could walk without reaching for your steady hands.

Mum, you were the warmth in the early light,

the voice that hummed me through fevered nights,

the arms that wrapped around all my fears

and told them, quietly, to leave.

You gave without measuring,

loved without limits,

and taught me that strength

doesn’t always roar—

sometimes, it’s soft,

quiet,

like the way you mended broken toys

and broken hearts

with the same gentle patience.

Dad, you were the silent foundation,

the quiet calm in a storm.

I didn’t always see how hard you worked,

how tired your shoulders were

from carrying more than just the weight of bills—

you carried dreams too.

You taught me that courage is not loud,

it’s not always glorious—

sometimes, it’s showing up day after day,

doing what needs to be done

because love demands it.

Together, you stood—

two pillars of my heart,

not perfect, but constant.

Rooted like old trees

that weather seasons

but never leave.

You held the roof of my world in place.

You let me fall when I needed to learn,

but never so far

that I couldn’t reach back.

I didn’t always say thank you—

I didn’t always understand.

I thought the world outside our door was bigger,

brighter,

more worth chasing—

but every road I ran down

led me back to you,

to quiet dinners and loud laughter,

to the look between you

that said more than any poem I could write.

Mum, you carried the invisible things—

worries folded into laundry piles,

hope stirred into every meal,

a thousand silent prayers whispered

behind closed doors.

You cheered for every small win

as if it were the sun rising.

And when I cried,

you didn't fix everything—

you held me through it.

That was enough.

It always was.

Dad, you built the frame of our lives—

not just the house,

but the values nailed into the walls:

honesty, kindness, work that matters.

You didn't speak in flowery words—

you spoke with your actions.

A lifted bag, a fixed light,

a silent ride home after failure

without judgment.

You knew when to say nothing,

when to let me figure it out.

That was love too.

I see it now.

Some people chase legacy

through fame, fortune,

building monuments of stone.

But you built yours in me.

In my choices,

my voice,

in how I love my own children.

You are there,

in all of it.

Now that time has softened your pace,

now that silver streaks your hair

and your hands are less steady,

I see the years etched into your faces,

and all I want is to hold on longer.

To ask you every question I never did.

To say thank you

in every language

until the sun sets on all things.

You were my first home,

and even now,

when the world feels too sharp,

when I am lost—

your voices still echo in my mind.

"Do your best."

"Be kind."

"Come back home when you’re ready."

And I do.

I always do.

Because you are

the two pillars of my heart.

Unshakable,

unbreakable,

forever standing tall—

even when I leaned too hard,

even when I forgot to look back,

even when life scattered us like seeds in the wind.

This poem is my hand pressed to your shoulder,

my attempt to wrap words around all you are—

but words will never be enough.

Still, I offer them,

fragile as they are,

with all the love you planted in me.

Because of you,

I know how to stand.

Because of you,

I know how to love.

Two pillars—

not of stone,

but of soul,

holding up the sky

of everything I am.