Dear Mother

Her smile is the last candle in the room still lit.

And when the storm rolls over,

the light is still there.

Then, a new day of work begins.

She juggles ten jobs,

caring for three pests,

doing every chore imaginable,

but leaving behind the American dream she had been promised

for herself. All for me.

The sacrifices cut

wounds

but not deep enough to hurt,

so there are no bruises.

Because she finds joy

in small things

and dad jokes,

so her laughter heals

and there is no need for bandages.

Instead, her optimism radiates a warm light.

The following night, a storm rolls over again.

But no matter how ferocious the wind,

it does not blow out the candle.

Instead, the candle emanates its light,

burning, glowing in intensity,

chasing the storm until it subsides.