A Mother to a Daughter

My mother reminds me of the tall trees
in our backyard.

The trunks that reach up into the sky, roots deep and growing.
The leaves that rustle a comforting sound in the wind

and give the sky’s teardrops a place to call home until returned to
the atmosphere.

I’ve always found trees
to be the most comforting part of nature. True to home,
stable and sturdy,
beautiful without making noise.

My mother is my tree. Full of reminders that life is beautiful.

A person
A place
Embodying my home.

Tree canopies,
a place where many
seek refuge from a storm when caught in one.

I’ve come home to my mother to seek refuge when I’ve been caught in a storm.

Easy to rest my head on,
dries my tears
like the leaves catch raindrops,
and gives solace to a young girl
who feels like there’s no way to name
the feeling she’s feeling.
Just like leaves rustling in the wind,
my mother scratches my back and
plays with my hair to remind me
feelings are just feelings,
they come and they go.
I’m learning to be strong like her, growing my roots further into the ground, so the storms don’t uproot me so easily.

When it would storm
my parents would fear
the trees in our backyard falling on the house.
But don’t they know,
that the trees are part of mother nature
and we have a mother
who is nature
and there must be an unspoken arrangement between the human mothers
and the nature mothers
to not harm one another.
For only they can understand one another.

My mother reminds me of the trees.