for the mom’s who aren’t here on mother’s day

the traces on your palms
will remind you of her laughter lines
they’re like roads on a map
they had always led you back home.

her museum shaped heart,
a free entrance for anybody,
open doors twentyfour-seven.
your paintings as a kid hanging on the walls.

the mind of a warrior,
going through hell and back to make you feel safe.
muscles like steel,
for carrying you much longer than only 9 months.

the woman who’s a part of the sky,
a soul made up on galaxies
and an angel with stardust veins.
you can rest, now.

– mama. for the moms who are not here on mother’s day.