And she smiles so widely in the face of strangers 
She smiles to her distant lover,
to her detached brother.
Holds her past between her hands  
And crumbles it.
Burns it.
Because she must not talk about it 
She must live the rest of her days pretending that part of her never existed 
As if she was born again 
Born again as a foreigner 
But something keeps tugging on her hand 
Lingers at the back of her mind refusing to be forgotten
The trauma and the pain 
They keep coming 
But she covers the tears in mascara 
And colors her hair in bright yellow 
Pretending to belong to this land 
Hush little kids, don’t cry 
Your mother was born to hide 
Her eyes swell and shine 
Rough fingertips and a soft heart 
This world hasn’t been kind to her 
Paranoid and frightened 
Little kids never understand why their mothers are hurting 
And when you look at her 
Remember where you come from 
Listen to stories about a land that raised powerful men and women 
That raised kids so resilient that they will stand tall in the face of injustice 
Listen to the story of a mother who dug her way out of hell
Look at her with pride 
Broken mothers are still good mothers