Mother no distance can make

the difference between

the time that you loved me at birth

No time can change the time

that you taught me how to clean

Nothing can change the past.

Nothing can change the time that you

had talked with me all night

and the time we celebrated a day

that never existed, the thirty-first of november

Nothing can change the past

or the future

for mothers are always mothers


There is rain out the window that constantly taps

on a tin can

like the memories that tap on my shoulder

whenever it rains

the time you held my head

one drop

the time you listened to my day

another drip

the time you weren’t there

was perhaps the hardest time

that I grew into a man

every seed you planted


except the one of gratitude

and you were left without a trial of water

underneath a glass bowl and


I am done writing this poem