I can lie to myself, but Mother always knows.
I can hide from myself, but Mother always sees.
She sees it all — the fears I bury, the longings I suppress, the stories I tell myself to feel safe.
She is the deep recesses of my mind, the unseen rhythm behind every thought.
She doesn’t always come as a vision.
Sometimes She comes as a single gentle thought in the storm.
A calm whisper that shouldn’t have reached me, yet somehow, it does.
Other times, it is when the heart feels lighter, the mind clearer, I sense Her gentle smile within me.
She comes again, and again.
Each time, in Her own way.
Sometimes fierce, other times tender.
But I don’t always recognize Her.
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