If I could go back to my pre-teen years, I would be less of a pest to my mom. I’d show her the love and affection she yearned for and show her the gratitude she so deserved. If I could take back all those feelings that caused my dear mother much grief, I’d exchange them for lilies instead and give her a hug every day. If I could tell Mother one thing, it’d be that I always did love her but didn’t know how to show it, even when my heart screamed to do so. If I could’ve seen into the future and had seen roles reversed with my daughter and me, I’d have made things better with mom. If I had learned as a child that stories would repeat in years to come, I’d practiced patience and love with my mom, so then I could apply the same with my daughter. If I could’ve learned from my Mother to keep calm when things became tough, I’d not be putting myself through hell and dragging my daughter along. If I could use gentler words with my own daughter, and still let her see how much I love her, and that her happiness is what I fight for, then we’d be able to communicate better.
If I could tell my daughter I love her,
oh, but I do, although tearfully.
Still, the words don’t come out
like they should, and, damn, that hurts!
First published in Silver Birch Press “If I” Series Poetry/Prose (September-October 2016).