Immaterial

Our definitions 
always were 
from different 
dictionaries.

Your kindnesses 
would become 
my debts, 
and they would bankrupt me. 

Each of them, 
loudly lamented 
sacrifices, 
that you made. 

So that us kids 
could have it better, 
have it easier, 
than you. 

We had a roof 
over our heads, 
we had clothes, 
and we had food. 

Expecting 
anything else 
would be ungrateful, 
and selfish.

Because being 
someone’s mother 
is the most selfless 
act there is. 

Especially 
when they weren’t yours, 
when you chose 
to take them in. 

Out of the sheer
generosity 
of your good, 
Christian, heart. 

But what you 
labelled ‘discipline’, 
if we are honest, 
was abuse. 

And what you saw 
as a burden, 
was a choice that 
you had made.

So what you call 
a sacrifice, 
I would know
as paper.

And even you know 
that paper 
isn’t how we 
measure 
love.



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