the inheritance

when my mother left
in the middle of december
i searched my hands
for what she had given me.

i didn’t find gold
or a map back home.
i found
the way she held her breath
to keep the house quiet.
i found
the way she softened her voice
until she became a whisper.

there was no final hug.
no last look into her eyes
to say the things
that are now trapped
behind my teeth.

i didn't get to see her
one last time.
i didn't get to hold the hands
that built my world.
now
her voice echoes
in the corners of my ears
a ghost
i am not ready
to let go of.

for eighteen years
i wore her silence
like a heavy shawl
thinking it was the only way
to stay warm in the north.

but today
i am taking it off.

i am keeping her strength
but i am burning the quiet.
i am keeping her fire
but i am letting it scream.

my mother was a miracle
who didn’t know
she was allowed to be seen.
so i will be the light
she never got to have.

i am her legacy
finally
loud.