“Why didn’t you
tell me?”
I asked.

“I didn’t want
to be a burden.”
she responded.

“But what if
you had died?”
was the question
I never asked.

“Have you ever thought
about the guilt
that I would have had
to live with?”
was the resentment
I never expressed.

“In your desire
to be a good mother
you could have made me
a bad son.”
was the blow
I never threw.

“You’re not my mother
because you’re not
a burden.”
was the acknowledgment
I never made.

“You’re my mother
because you are.”
was the tear
I never shed.

“I love you.”
was the honesty
I never expressed.