i am the water in the ocean next to the shore
next to the forest next to you
you, mom, are the fire in the forest next to the shore
next to the ocean next to me
when it comes to crashing and burning, mom,
you burn (sky high) and i crash (into your side)
because the smoke from your cigarettes clouds my lungs
and yours and we’re too busy coughing to begin listening
we don’t meet, mom, we collide and my waves are not big
enough to reach you (yet) but trust me when i say they will
and when they do, the steam blowing out of your ears
and stinging my eyes will cover the proud smile you’d rather hide
mom, i think the thing you are is afraid
of me waving goodbye and heading off to sea
to see what will wave back at me
your flame burns so brightly to hide the fact you’re insecure
that your idea of you and me will no longer stand to be.
but, mom, i can’t really stay mad at a fire that
burns as bright as you
because that was the same light that you
read me bedtimes story to.
but, mom, i cannot even compare a fire
to the warmth that comes from your smile
and, as cliches as this sounds, i know your arms will always be
here for me if i need unconditional love once in a while.
and most important of all, mom,
is that you taught the waves
storming through my head
how to rock themselves to sleep instead.
what i want to say, mom, is that i
will end up leaving this home shore someday
but please don’t ever begin to think
that forever is how long i plan to be away.
because, mom, i know you’ll miss the gentleness of my waves
as much as i’ll miss the burning love of your heart
and it seems like chaos whenever we collide
but, mom, you are a light in my life that is almost unbearably bright
from it, i could never really be apart.
because, mom, waves like me will always come back to shore.
This poem, quite obviously, is dedicated to my mom. It is written as a spoken word, and has been performed as such. Thank you for taking the time to read.
claire b.
pic credit: huffington post