Mom,
I want to apologize for making you grieve. For shaking the only stable ground you stood on and stripping a layer from your already thin coat of joy. I’m so sorry for making you Atlas: bringing you to your knees only to place the weight of the world on your shoulders.
I made you bargain for my happiness and forced you to see a shadow where your daughter once stood. I made you watch as an extension of yourself crumbled, then I asked you to pick up the pieces.
I’m entirely grateful you did the impossible and somehow showed up. Against all odds, you not only bore the weight I placed on you, but lifted it overhead and cradled it. You are stronger than I ever was, and I feel that strength in me now as I cry for the pain I caused and still choose to move forward. I want to show up for you, love you, and give you all the stable ground you deserve.
I’m not very religious, but it feels right that I’m writing all of this on Easter. The day of resurrection. I want to resurrect the women I buried, both you and myself. I know I’m strong enough, now. I hope you will take my hand and let me give you a fraction of the energy and love you unceasingly give me.
I love you,
Alyssa
FREED VERSE 