mother.

beginning with myths as history,
i could see myself staring out the front door
while you called me outside the gate
in the rain.

music tied me to fragile memories,
the growth of my defenselessness in empty homes
and i was too young to recognize
what it meant when i heard you crying.

on a car ride on the five
you announced that your recognized
just how strong you were
all these days.

i agreed calmly on the outside
and screamed out loud inside
as i began to recognize
my inheritance.