Mom

for nine months i was carried
by a woman, like an angel.
my first home was in her arms
and never was it unstable.

while i was busy worrying about me,
she worried about me more.
there was never an illness
she couldn’t cure.

whether it was “put on a jacket”
“take one more bite”
“call me when you get there”
or just an
“everything will be alright.”

her hands caressed my wounds
(even if they ached)
the pain that accompanies her devotion
will always last,
even if they’re concealed.
But my cuts and scrapes
from running when she warned not to
will someday be healed

i only hope that someday
i can be half the woman
you are.