Kate Didd

My mother was a cord, a cord, a tether,

binding the lost, the broken, together.

Her words were soft, her truth was thin,

smiles for strangers, lies within.

She never looked, she never spoke,

grief wrapped tight around her cloak.

She stayed with the man who hated her most,

I tried to save her, I paid the cost.

I pulled, I begged, I begged, I tried,

I carried her weight, I almost died.

Found help, found hope, found ways to mend,

watched it shatter, watched it bend,

watched it break again in the end.

I wish I was stronger, I wish I was brave,

I wish my hands could hold and save.

But I’m just a girl, small and frail,

forgotten by hearts that could not prevail.

The line between love and fury is thin,

between the fight we lose and the fight we win.

Life cuts, life burns, life bites,

yet I rise, I breathe, I survive the nights.

Her eyes never met me, her truth never spoke,

but I am the fire she could not provoke.

I am the girl, the girl everyone forgot,

carrying the lessons, the pain, the rot.

I am not the cord, I am the flame,

I am the voice that speaks her name.

I am the girl who tried to save,

I am the girl who rose from the grave.

I rise, I rise, I rise again,

I breathe, I breathe, through blood and pain.

I rise, I rise, I rise, I see,

I am the girl who is finally free.