My mom asks me why my poems are so sad;

Why my words

Slide down her throat like sour gum drops

Chain linked sentences that leave indents on her skin

And flakes of rust in her hair.

I apologize for the bitter aftertaste of my thoughts,

For the blunt pressure of metal

That leaves imprints on your body

I’m sorry Mama,

Sorry for the emotion that fills up the wishing well in my chest

An overflowing bucket of salty water

That flowers don’t dare lay their pretty roots near.

I’m sorry Mama,

For the way others have hurt me

And the tear stains they’ve left on my cheeks.

I’m sorry that you’ve always needed to be the strong one,

The one with all the answers,

The one who can do it all.

I’m sorry that I can’t learn from your mistakes,

That I’m too stubborn;

And dip my hand into boiling water

When I already know it’s going to burn.

I’m sorry I challenge you

And push you,

And ask so much of you.

I lay sticks of dynamite next to your open flame

Just waiting for a stray ember

To ignite chaos;

To ignite and explode.

I’ve shuffled these sorry’s into card decks

Stacked on my shoulders, cardstock

That won’t stay in place.

I’ve forced these thoughts into a little box,

But they were never meant to be organized.

I brush these cards from my shoulders, and fold them

Into origami cranes

That take flight with each passing moment;

And every beat of their wings kiss the sky with my thank you’s to you.

Thank you for your strength.

Thank you for your kindness.

Thank you for your support.

Thank you for teaching me what it means to be loved;

Completely,

Irrevocably,

And unconditionally.

Thank you for teaching me

How to plant seeds of beauty and light,

And love and love and love,

Before I even realized I had a garden of my own.

Thank you Mama.