Mama

photo from Pixabay

photo from Pixabay

I want to feel with my little heart 

The warmth of your hug on a rainy day when my socks are wet 

And I am cold

I want to say I am not hurt 

By the hand you used to throw the card 

I made for you with love when I was 10 

I want to see with eyes unbothered 

The loving gaze you use to stare at others 

The same gaze I would never receive

Your eyes bear an invitation, asking for others to get to know your soul

I'm at the fence, won't you let me in? 

I want to hear before I go

That I made you proud of me 

That for a moment in my existence, my being alive was worth it 

I want to write someday of love 

Without pretending to know what it feels like 

To be warm and fuzzy and giggly and comfortable

I can't write about something I know nothing of

I want to say when I am older 

That I did better off without you 

That I am strong, brilliant, and beloved 

And that that was ninety nine percent me and one percent you. 

I want to send you this one day 

To explain how funny we both are 

Me for having these feelings 

And you for causing them

I hope you sleep well tonight 

I will try to do so too 

Sincerely, 

Someone who wants to call herself your daughter.

Price Maccarthy

Price Maccarthy (she/her) is a visually impaired writer from Ghana and Nigeria with a penchant for autobiographical prose and poetry. She hopes to someday fully pen her — sometimes comical but often hard-hitting — life experiences into a piece she is proud of. Apart from living for the art of chronic procrastination, Price loves good food, books that make her cry, and dark humor (no pun intended).

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