In the eyes of a daughter.

I see you, mother,
dipping out from the shadows,
lips ashen with words unspoken.
Please stop hiding from me.
You sip from mugs that
burn your fingers
yet all you can mutter is
“it will get better.”

And I understand.
Because the world is chaos
through my eyes, too.

You’re tired.
I’m tired.
The world is tired.
And it doesn’t matter that our
priest is on speed dial,
it doesn’t matter that church doors
will open for us any hour of the night,
it doesn’t matter that tomorrow may
shine brighter than we’re used to.

We’ll still be blinded…

The world is hurting
and the truth is, we’re not God.
We’re only human enough to
bandage our wounds, and maybe
someday, we’ll have enough strength
to heal more than just

our souls.