once a year
on this day, my body remembers.
my body recalls the pain,
the pain of losing something so familiar but similarly unknown
i grieve what my body told me i was supposed to be,
who i was supposed to become that summer and the many decades that followed
i grieve the judgment that came with it,
the frowns, the disappointment, and the fear
and i grieve it because all of it reminds me of you
a lot of songs remind me of you
a lot of memories remind me of you
i wish people would stop telling me there wasn’t a you
because there was, as minuscule and as nothingness you were
you were an idea, a plan, a story
and all of that expired, that one day of that one year
so once a year i let the pain flow through me
i let it pour, but only a little because i’m supposed to be okay
as the days continue on, i watch the little droplets transform into thunderstorms
then smaller showers, and into to even smaller drizzles
but again, once a year i let it storm
because my body remembers
and when the grocery stores fill with cheesy cards and flowers,
i smile
because for someone, somewhere
their once a year transformed into something beautiful
happy mother’s day