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Grades level iconsGrade 12
Genre information iconMemoir, Poetry
Resource type iconWriting

My Mother, the Woman Who Held up the World

by Janeth GM, Grade 12, Woodburn, Oregon
This touching poem honors the author’s personal superhero: her mother.
About the Author

When she’s not writing, Janeth enjoys reflecting on her family history and exploring new ways to heal through poetry. She hopes her poem honors her mother’s sacrifice and gives voice to those who have grown up with invisible responsibilities. She dreams of becoming a paramedic to help others the way her mother helped her. She believes that silent love also deserves to be celebrated.

My Mother, the Woman Who Held up the World

I did not grow up with riches, but I grew up rich in love. Not the kind you find in fairy tales, but the kind built from sweat, from aching feet, from hands that never stopped working even when the world told her to rest.

Mi madre no tenía capa, pero tenía un delantal manchado de esperanza. No tenía poderes mágicos, pero tenía la fuerza de mil tormentas.

She woke before the sun, not to chase dreams, but to make sure mine were possible. She packed lunches with borrowed time, folded clothes with tired fingers, and whispered prayers into the silence so I could sleep without fear.

Mientras yo aprendía a escribir mi nombre, ella aprendió a sobrevivir en un idioma que no era suyo. Mientras yo soñaba con ser astronauta, ella soñaba con pagar la renta sin llorar.

She didn’t ask for recognition. She didn’t ask for rest. She asked for one thing only: that I never feel the hunger she once knew.

Mi madre fue mi primer hogar, mi primer maestra, mi primer ejemplo de lo que significa amar sin condiciones.

She carried me through storms without letting me see the rain. She built bridges over broken systems so I could walk freely.

Y cuando el mundo la ignoraba, yo la miraba. Yo la veía. Yo la honraba.

Because her story is not one of weakness, but of quiet power. Of dignity in the face of exhaustion. Of love that never needed to be loud to be eternal.

Ahora que soy adulta, veo las huellas que dejó en mi camino. No eran de oro, eran de sacrificio. Y eso vale más.

She is my superhero. Not because she saved the world, but because she saved mine.

 

This piece was originally published in No Ordinary Dreamer by 826 National.

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