Today, on Mother’s Day, I want to dedicate a little poetry to my mom and to all the mothers in the world.
Mom, I know that sometimes my hands get dirty out there on the street, but my soul is always cleansed by thinking of you in all those little ways.
You, who have always been a shield in this thing that feels like a war without guns, have turned what sometimes seems like an endless desert into a garden. I thank you for not letting go of me when the world turned gray and for being the light that illuminates this feeling that sometimes arises from a slip-up.
I’m not the perfect son, nor the one sitting at the table right now, but I’m the one you carry in your blood as your greatest certainty. You are my medal and my capeless warrior, the only victory this system cannot take from me.
Sometimes writing itself isn’t enough, and sometimes when phrases rhyme, they don’t do so in the most coherent way, but I want to give you this. I hope it reaches an unknown place—there, enter your mind.
Sometimes hunger challenges us because you’ve always been up to the task. I thank you for being my trench in this battle.
Life gave me an unfair wage, but fate gifted me the greatest mother in the world. You are my true capital.
You are not just my mother; you are the life lesson I learned before writing my first rhyme.
Beautiful on the outside and a giant on the inside. Thank you for being the center of everything I strive for.
I traded fear for your faith to keep walking with a steady step because sometimes I know the world falls apart and you keep lifting me up. I don’t care how much bread costs or what day the market is—I’d rather be your son who has the world by my side because gold is what you have in your soul, my old lady, and it’s your love—the only law reflected in my heart.
