I miss my mother, though she’s not gone,
Her presence lingers, but the essence wanes,
Once her son, her pride, her morning dawn,
Held in her arms, I knew no pains.
From tender kisses to whispered fears,
She wove a shield of soft embrace,
In fierce debates, I stood as her knight,
Defending ideals we both would chase.
She cheered me on in every race,
Her smile, her warmth, her soft embrace.
She listened when my young heart spoke,
Her love a shield from every poke.
But as I grew, the world grew too,
With it came the seed of doubt,
Could she, my guide, be flawed and blind?
This thought gnawed at my innermost shout.
Her anger, sharp as shattered glass,
Her joy, a faint shadow of the past.
The warmth she brought now chilled the air,
A storm around, a weight to bear
She never smiled, not anymore,
I drifted in the tide of her despair,
The hero once I saw in her
Seemed lost in life’s relentless snare.
I regret the day we watched that film,
Her eyes, reflections of a life unfound,
She spoke of dreams that slipped away,
Of roads untaken, hopes run aground.
She whispered truths that broke my heart,
A life misled, a world apart,
I yearned to say, “You’re strong, it’s fine,”
But words failed me, and time slipped by.
Yes, I miss those days of simple love,
When I was her pride, her little dove,
But life reshapes and bends the light,
Love stretches thin, yet endures the night.
So if you can, without a pause,
Embrace your mom, despite her flaws.
For all they want, through tears and pain,
Is to see you smile, to love again.
And though our bond is fraught and strained,
Her words remain, in truth ingrained:
“I need no gifts, no grand display,
Just don’t let hate take love away.”
Leon Zhang