My Mother's Son

POEM BY ERIC CEJA RUIZ

ILLUSTRATION BY TINA HUNG

My mother burnt all her flowers to keep me warm. Because warmth only heals when something burns. And from the ashes started a garden that I could call my own.

We shared my first breath. As she held me close to her chest. She wiped my tears, and she pulled me near, Swiping away any fear. She tells me she will always be here.

The woman who taught me not to fear the dark because we’re made from the stars, and we’re destined to light the world around us with our hearts.

The woman who can heal with a smile and a glance. The woman who taught me to give the world a second chance. To live and to dance.

She’s near when we’re apart. When I look in the mirror, I see her eyes full of cheer.

She’s here when my hair parts.

She’s there when I need to be wise.

She was made from the stars, and at night, I can feel her shine from afar.

She grabbed my hand as I crossed the street. Now I’m on the other side by myself. Just now realizing she was cheering as she let go.