What is a mother’s love?

And what should it feel like?

I believe a mother’s love should feel safe.

But she told me

the love she receives at home feels like the opposite

unseen, silenced, seasonal, questionable.

Like what was supposed to be love

comes with miscommunication,

with lack of understanding.

A mother’s care should feel like a shield, she says.

But why does that love feel seasonal

instead of unconditional toward her?

Making her feel like the lesser child.

Love from a mother should not cause pain.

But the love she receives does.

It makes it difficult to even speak.

Why does what was supposed to be love seem conditional? she asked.

The woman who finds flaws in her,

always searching for a loophole.

And when she finally finds one

she uses her words

to remind the little girl

of things that taunt her.

Say things

that make her reconsider her existence,

doubt if her presence

brings peace or chaos.

Why?

She is reminded every damn time

how she is flawed.

How deep do they say

a mother’s love runs?

Because some behaviors don’t feel like love

but like a mistake

they had

and now have to live with.

She asked,

and I was shaken.

She says we’re told

to cut our parents some slack.

But why transfer their trauma onto us

and expect no reaction?

Why not cut us some slack too

for reacting?

Why am I not allowed to be upset?

Why should I be submissive

to a pain I did not ask for?

Why make me carry

what I did not pack,

and still expect a sane child?

Then when I speak

it is called rude,

disrespectful,

too much.

And somehow,

for some reason,

I become

the cause of anything,

everything.