MOTHER

She was the first road I walked,

her arms a shelter,

her voice a lantern in the dark.

The world was uncertain,

but she carried me steady as a river,

turning silence into comfort,

turning storms into rain.

I remember the small things—

lullabies folded from weariness,

laughter stitching broken hours,

her quiet strength growing taller than fear.

In America’s wide fields,

her love was the harvest,

the bread, the roof,

the reason I believed in tomorrow.

Now I walk my own path,

but I carry her everywhere—

in courage, in flaws,

in every dream I dare to chase.

She is root and sky,

lifting me always toward light.