Mother

How to tell your mother you love her.

Tell her how the scent of onions browning in the stove makes you think of her. How her long fingers folded around your hands as she taught you the importance of feeding the soft part of the soul.

Remind her the things you love best about yourself are pieces of her. Her softness, her forgiveness, her sacrifice.

Remind her the salt in your tears always seems to be hers. That you want to protect her in all the ways she protected you, and sometimes that means protecting her from yourself.

Let her know that you’ve learnt the world through her. That she gave you eyes when you couldnt see and that her hands were your hands. That she taught you there is no great bravery than tenderness.

Remind her that you have grown. That you’ve changed. That you will carry her with you until you die, and when you do, that whatever is left of you will shout her name, her face, her love into the universe.

-YH

My mind

My mind is a battlefield,
And the bullets being my thoughts,
One too many and all too painful,
And sometimes they become too powerful.

That they pierce the pure gold that isnt my heart,
Because i care more than i should,
And i love harder than whats good for me.

My eyes are a filter,
Letting the gold that is in my heart shine out in soft warm beams of lightย  but keeping back the battlefield that lies behind them,

Sometimes i wish that my heart was an open field of flowers,
Without those bullets,
I wouldnt grow,
I wouldnt be as wise.

And although i wish sometimes thatย  my heart was instead made of steel for protection,
Without the heart i wouldnt be me,ย  i wouldnt be the compassionate soul i am.

I would rather be hurt and learn from it to experience insecurity and gather the strength to push it away than to be oblivious to all that isnt sunny,
And never truly understand the person that is behind the filter.

-YH