She strokes my hair
and looks at me
like I am the best thing that’s ever happened
She reaches for my hand and leads me through my house
Bouncing into the bedroom,
She has me sit on the bed
And then she brings me things,
all the things
from my closet,
hats, scarves, boots, makeup, brushes,
everything that I own
and what she thinks is blush for my face
but is actually dry shampoo for my hair
So I let her put brownish powder
all over my forehead and tell me that I’m pretty
Because for one second I see myself as she sees me,
beautiful and amazing.
I see me in light of her
admiration and delight
and it feels good and it feels strange to be this adored,
to be this celebrated,
to be not only a mother
but a miracle
a rare treasure, an answer to prayer.
It feels weird and good all at the same time,
like this is how it should have been,
could have been
And yet how I’ve let the world and society dim the light in me
And tell me that I am just a girl,
just a mother and that I don’t really matter.
Somehow I’ve bought into it and believed the lies
until Denise came
and showed me the truth about who I am,
about how loved and admired and treasured I am.
Who knew it took a girl from Colombia
without a mama to show me
that I matter and that I am valued,
and that I am more than a mama??
And I will never forget this feeling,
I will never forget this love
and the person I see in her eyes.
And so I will let her stroke and pat
and spray too much perfume on me,
because I can’t argue with what I see
and what I see is the truth.
the kind that shatters my self dimming logic
and makes me stop,
take a deep breath,
sit back in my chair
And so I receive the truest and deepest and most innocent love
from this child
I’ve never met.
The kind that needs no words and doesn’t speak
But simply holds my face in her hands
And delights in me
Giving what she herself has never known
and yet she gives to me
of all people,
with open hands,
gving and not caring
what the world expects or thinks is pretty.
And so she combs my hair and gently places plastic beads
around my neck
and I let her,
For she lets me see her soul.
She takes me by the hand and lets me see her,
and what I see and what I know
is so much more
than any words or language can describe
What I feel and know is
in her eyes
and there I am seen
for who I am
and who I’ve always been.