Hi, just wanted to speak my mind,
And I know we havenât spoken in months.
How many times have you written a letter for me that read âto who it may concernâ?
Youâve bent over backwards,
Youâve broken yourself and your heart,
Youâve done the impossible,
And sacrificed the unthinkable,
Been a hero and a villain,
Youâre something the greatest man can never deserve.
A person who doesnât keep score.
And always sees me as a winner.
When I lose youâre there to pick me up.
I cry and weep for all humans who donât have you to call Mother.
I never expect another to read this and understand my words and meaning.
And even you and your humbleness will dismiss this, to a degree.
You and I both know and understand you have made mistakes.
And if thereâs a God, He knows Iâve made so many mistakes.
When I look in the mirror,
I know I wouldâve made an exponential amount more, and were you not there to guide me.
That frightens me, because mine have been so grave.
Forgive my rambling on, and my no rhyme prose.
In darkest of nights, with the darkest of thoughts,
You are the spirit that holds my hand, and gives me strength to face another day.
For my heart to keep a rhythm, when I beg it not to beat.
You are my superpower that keeps me going.
I know, tragedy has struck us, and has split me from you.
Sometimes a man must venture I believe, and fend for himself.
I hope, and I pray, that you know my energy, my will, and my faith, and you havenât have left me; it is your memory and your love that keep me honest, true, keep me from giving up.
From one Son to a Mother,
You are my strength from beyond.
I promise you, I will rejoin you, someday.
I think of You and my family everyday; blood or otherwise.
I will stand tall. I will look you in the eye, and I will tell you that I have conquered and have become a man.
I will say, among all the things I have experienced, all the places Iâve been, all the wars I have fought, and all the Man I have yet to and already become; I am who I am, and I am who I will become, it is because you are my Mother. I am an imperfect man, full of flaws, but full of the capacity and capability to love; that comes from no one but You.
âOpen Letter To A Motherâ (Chapter 37, A Hundred Heartbreaks)