Everything I Became Began in Your Hands
Before the world learned how to pronounce my name,
you whispered it into the dark
like a prayer afraid of being overheard.
You stitched mornings together
with the thin thread of your patience—
tea boiling over, uniforms drying late,
rent waiting at the door like bad weather.
I thought childhood was effortless.
I did not see
how often your hunger
sat quietly beside mine
and chose silence.
Your palms smelled of turmeric, soap,
old books, rainwater,
and the iron scent of sacrifice.
When I failed,
you did not offer speeches.
You simply moved closer
and made grief feel smaller.
Even your anger
was another form of shelter—
a storm standing guard
outside a fragile house.
I left home
with borrowed courage
that was yours all along.
Every applause I have received
carries the echo of your sleepless nights.
Every room that welcomes me
was first opened by your refusal to quit.
People congratulate me
for climbing so high.
They do not know
I have been standing
on your invisible shoulders
my entire life.
And if history remembers me kindly,
let it write this in bold letters:
whatever shines in me
was lit by my mother first.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
