She Was Born Knowing How to Love

She didn’t learn love — she remembered it.

A child in a home where walls spoke in shouts,

and love was measured in punishments and fear,

she knew deep down there was another way.

Sometimes, when I felt anger rising inside me,

she taught me to look deeper,

not from the wounds,

but from the emptiness that kept them from loving truly.

She showed me that those who hurt others

have themselves been hurt before,

and that forgiveness is the bravest path

to freedom.

She, the girl who raised me without words,

my sister who silently revealed

that pain isn’t inherited, it transforms —

because that’s who she is.

Then life entrusted her with a daughter,

and the universe witnessed

what happens when a mother is born from the soul,

not from old patterns.

No raised hands, only presence,

gentle limits like a cradle’s embrace.

That girl — that niece who shines like a star —

grew up fearless, truthful,

knowing she was loved by someone

who never forgot the language of love.

My sister has no temples, no statues, no hymns sung in her name,

but if gods could choose one to embody

the light of maternal love,

they would choose her, again and again,

because her divinity is not perfect — it is human.

She cries silently, doubts sometimes,

but she always chooses to love,

even when it hurts, even when love is not returned.

She taught me family is not just given,

but built from the soul,

and the true miracle isn’t birthing a body —

it’s creating a spirit free,

trusting, and filled with unconditional love.

She was born knowing how to love,

and because of that, a heart that never died — mine — lives on.

Because of that, there’s a girl who shines like the sun — her daughter —

and because of that, there’s a world unknowingly walking with more light,

because when a mother loves like that,

she doesn’t just raise a child,

she lights the way.